Bell of all Belles
by xoxoemily
Summary: NAITLYN. My name is Bell Black. Yes, that's Bell like the Liberty Bell, and Black as in Nate and Caitlyn Black. I always thought my parents were THE NAITLYN, the ones with the indestructible marriage. But I guess the honeymoon's over.
1. Chapter 1

My name is Bell Black. Make no mistake, because I never do. Yes, that's Bell like the Liberty Bell, and Black as in Nate and Caitlyn Black. My parents have been dubbed People Magazines' Most Romantic Couple of All Time, twice, which is kinda impossible since it's supposed to be ALL TIME. I've been famous since the day I was born, beating out Shiloh for cutest, and Suri for best dressed. People tell me all the time that I'm a chip off the old block, and one day, I'll be destined for greatness just like my parents.

And yes, my whole life has been destined for success. I'm going to be the best ballroom dancer in the world. This year, I'm going to master Latin dancing, like the rumba or salsa. This year, my partner Maksim and I are headed to nationals. I love everything about dance. I love the glittery outfits and I love the way they swish around when I'm dancing. I love the beat of the music. I love the intensity and passion in every move. Dancing is my passion, just like producing is my mom's passion and singing is my dad's. Naturally, I have rhythm in every bone of my body because of my parents.

My family makes these weird goals. My mom's is to lose 5 pounds, even though my dad constantly tells her she's beautiful. And she is. She has curly brown hair naturally, but she likes it straight. But since she's a pushover for my dad, she curls it cause her "Natey" likes it. Blech. I think I just puked a bit in my mouth. My mom is not the glam Marilyn Monroe or Angelina Jolie beautiful. She has the kind of beauty where it is so overwhelming you have to step back and enjoy the view. You have to look a while before it finally hits you. According to my dad, that's the best kind of beautiful.

My mom is pretty crazy, that's where I get my spontaneity from I guess. She used to wear lime green shirts, I'm not joking, I swear. I have the pictures to prove it. Of course these days, she doesn't wear skin tight neon clothing anymore (She's 36, for God's sake). Thank the lord and any other divine being. But the eternal style icon Caitlyn Black still lives. My mom is a trendsetter, who makes a statement in everything she does.

My dad is a lot more mellow than my mom. They balance each other well. They're like peanut butter and jelly. The result is a yummy sandwich, or a Bell! Both my parents are retired and haven't "been in the business" for a long time. They quit before I was born. Instead, my mom stays at home, and my dad teaches music classes to underprivileged kids at the local community center. I think that's a bit of an oxymoron, because there are no underprivileged kids in Bel-Air, just rich ones whose divorced plastic-surgery addicted moms want to meet the legendary and "super-hot" Nate Black. Once again, blech.

My dad is so laid back he could be mistaken for a stoner or a really tired dude. When he does raise his voice, it's because I did something stupid or someone else did. Usually me. Ha. Of course, my parents love me, because they love each other. They met at this Camp Rock they both went to at the turn of the century. It was a camp for musically talented people. They glanced at each other over smores and the rest was history. At least that's what they tell me.

Every year, they urge me to go. They're like "Bell! That's where we met! Magic happens there! And you're soooo talented. I'm sure Maksim will let you skip practice for a month". First of all, magic doesn't happen, horny teenagers do. Second of all, since I'm so talented, why do I have to go? And lastly, Camp Rock is a camp for music, not dancing. There's a difference. Dancing is a way of life. It's an interpretation of music.

Anyway, I'll stop talking about my lovey-dovey parents, whom still at 36, act like teenagers. They treat me like a baby, as if they were any more mature. My aunt Mitchie says it's cause I'm the only child. But I don't think my aunt Mitchie is qualified to say anything on the topic of children because she doesn't have any.

Now onto the fame aspect of my life. It's been 15 years since my parents were at the top of the A-list, in the height of the action. Because of me, they don't really do anything celebrity like except go to a few awards shows a year. But my parents aren't D-listers, like Hulk Hogan, who is STILL alive. They're more of quiet A-listers. They were very smart on how to retire. They went out with a bang, so they seem legendary. Other stupid old celebrities left with a scandal, like Miley Cyrus, who is seen as a skank bitch ho. My mother's words, not mine. My mom's not a fan of Miley Cyrus, because she used to go out with my dad.

The occasional paparazzi hang around our house, hoping that if they harass us enough, my parents will go back to recording. They have 15 Grammys between them. It's in the Fame room of our house. That's where all the magazine covers, trophies, and articles are organized. My mom obviously has nothing to do with her life but organize.

But most magazines have learned to lay off on me. My parents will turn into pit vipers if they write anything about me. They feel the need to protect me, whatever. Unlike Suri and Shiloh, I am not an attention whore. I like my dainty life as it is with my best friend, Evelyn. Evelyn's parents work behind the scenes of celebs, so she gets it without really getting it.

I love my life, however crazy it is. I love my crazy lovey-dovey parents. I 've almost learned to love the daily stalkers outside my house. Who else is there to prank with Eve? I'm Bell Black and my life is perfect, for now.


	2. Chapter 2

There are occasions when I wish my parents were as neglecting as other celebrity parents. That way, I wouldn't have to suffer through the hell called family dinners. I really don't see the point since it's just full of awkward silences and adults acting like I'm not there. Then there's my parents lame attempts to bring my into the conversation, cause talking about politics is so my thing, Aunt Mitchie.

Anyway, the people who come to the family dinners aren't even my family, thank god. They're my dad's former band mates from Connect 3, and my mom's best friend Mitchie, who used to be married to my Uncle Shane, Connect 3's old frontman. It's complicated. As much as I hate family dinners, I love my "family".

So every Wednesday night, my Uncles Jason and Shane and my Aunt Mitchie show up at my door for a family dinner at my house, since we're the only family. Uncle Jason is a 30 something year old bachelor, and Uncle Shane and Aunt Mitchie…well, they're something else. After some bickering, old people talk and reminiscing the glory days, I barely have time to rush to watch my favorite show, Found, before my mom yells at me to wash the dishes. You'd think we have maids, but nope. My parents are old fashioned and believe in "morals rooted in hard work". I can't tell you how many times I've heard that.

Anyway, I think I can hear them coming. They always come at the same time to prevent awkward tension between Aunt Mitchie and Uncle Shane.

"Bell! Get the door!" my mom yells from upstairs. I rush towards the door and open it, expecting my three pathetic relatives but instead I get one. It's just Uncle Jason, ten minutes early. Wait a second, what the hell is behind him? I try to peek but he stops me.

"Bell get your parents, I have news," he tells me sternly with a finger waving back and forth in a tsk tsk tsk manner. Jeez, I was just curious. I mean what kind of news does he have? Has he finally found a girlfriend? Given up his music obsession? Or even better his bird obsession? Well hey! Curiosity killed the cat. But then again, I'm not a cat. I'm a Bell.

"Kay," I say nonchalantly and wander upstairs, where my parents are probably watching some old movie. I rush into the movie room and my parents are lying on the couch watching a slideshow from their wedding. Blech.

"Hello parental units. The Jason needs you. He has some news that is sooo important he needs all of us," I say melodramatically.

"Oh Bell. Stop being so dramatic. It's rather Tess Tyler ish," my mom says just as exasperatingly. I giggle at the reference to my mother's mortal enemy in showbiz.

"Now be nice, Caity," my dad says with a fake punch. My mom gives him a pout, and I give them both a pout.

"Aren't you guys the least bit excited?!? This is Jason! He never has any news. He's so drab! Come on!" I yell and drag them both up and rush them downstairs where Jason has sat down on the couch.

"Jason. Always a pleasure," my mom says welcomingly and gives him a hug, "What's this news Bell is talking about?" My mom always acts super nice to Jason because he's a "lost soul".

"Nate. Caitlyn. Bell, I've been quite lonely for a while now and I've been thinking about this for a while so don't feel like this is a spontaneous fling," he starts. Oh god, he's hired a prostitute. He wants to steal me from my parents. He's invested all his money in a bird conservatory. NOOO! My life is over! Wait a second, are those car seats?

"Holy shit! Are those babies?" I yell without thinking. Both my parents are too shocked at what I just blurted out to reprimand me for my language, like they always do.

"Aren't you the detective, Bell? Newly adopted twin girls from the Philippines," he announces proudly.

"I'm an uncle now?" my dad asks overwhelmingly. My mom just looks shocked at Uncle Jason's maturity.

"Yup. Meet Harmony Wren and Melody Robin," he proclaims and uncovers the pink fuzzy blankets on top of the car seats. Oh, I knew there was a catch. I automatically feel sorry for these babies. It's hard enough living in a life size bird house, but with names like Harmony Wren and Melody Robin, you might as well go into witness protection now.

"How pleasant Jason," my mom finally says, but I know deep down inside that she's cringing at the names as well. I mean, you can stay unique, but don't do overboard girly or else you sound like a hooker.

"Yup! I'm so excited to babysit," I offer enthusiastically.

"Oh great, I was so scared you guys would flip out or something like—" he starts, but before he can finish, someone interrupts him.

"Holy shit Jason. What did you do?" my Uncle Shane yelps, with my Aunt Mitchie quickly following him into the living room, both soaking wet from the rain.

"Adopted some girls. It's time I settle down. I cant be a bachelor forever you know. You should do something about your situation too, Shane," Jason says. Uh oh, bad move. Never talk to Uncle Shane about Aunt Mitchie and vice versa. It dampers the whole night.

Instead, Shane doesn't say anything but "When's dinner?". My mom scurries everyone into the dining room where we snack on lasagna.

Surprisingly, everything is going fine. But I'm old enough to know that this does not last. Yup, I was right. All hell decided to break loose, just when Aunt Mitchie wanted someone to pass her the pepper.

Then good ole Uncle Shane offered and began reaching across the table, but she stopped him. WTF right? Let your ex-husband offer you some pepper, woman!

"What?" he asked with a collected tone on the verge of cracking.

"Oh you don't have to Shane. I wouldn't want to BURDEN you," my aunt retorted back. And with that statement, they both stomped up and left again, for the third time in a row, leaving us all in shock, including baby Harmony and Melody.

"Well, that was fun. So why do Aunt Mitchie and Uncle Shane hate each other?" I ask. It's the question I've been wanting to know the answer to since forever. They got divorced when I was 10 and I was too stupid to remember anything juicy. But of course my dad has to jump in with the classic "They don't hate each other". Yeah, right.

"5 years is a long time without love, Bell," my mom says reassuringly and squeezes my dad's hand/

"Or sex" Uncle Jason chimes in, despite the glares of my parents.

"What you haven't given her the sex talk?" he asks innocently. Ha. I can always count on my family for some reality tv worthy drama.


	3. Chapter 3

A great tradition of the Black family is the ice cream we go out for every Friday after dinner. There's a Baskin Robbins three blocks from our house and we walk there on warm summer nights, hand in hand. All three of us look mighty weird for the street loiterers. Of course, there's no more paparazzi because they've all gone home and there wasn't many to begin with anyway. We've been doing this for as long as I remember. The pink spoons and the clown ice cream cones are part of my childhood.

Anyhoo, we're usuals at the parlor. Yes, I call Baskin Robbins an ice cream parlor. I use the weirdest vocabulary that would make the modern teenager cringe. My dad says my mom did the same thing when they were teenagers. She still kind of does. My dad always gets a classic vanilla in a sugar cone. He's a really simple guy, my dad. He doesn't say much or do much for the matter, but he still finds ways to express himself. And when he does, it means the world.

I always get a Rocky Road with chocolate syrup and sprinkles. I think it expresses me well. It's an American classic, and my teachers are always telling me I'm such a girl next door kind of girl. Well, I guess I'm girl next door if you live in fancy shmancy Bel-Air in a house that cost eight digits. Plus, it's sweet but rough, like me. I'm nice to those I love and mean as hell to those I don't. I don't beat around the bush, I'm super blunt. But the syrup and sprinkles balance it out.

My mom on the other hand, tries something totally different every time, but always in a waffle cone. We don't like using cups because it's bad for the environment. I mean why waste a tree when you can eat an ice cream cone? Anyhoo, last week she tried a rainbow sherbet. That thing had more colors than a gay pride parade. Apparently it was horrible. Most of the flavors she tries are horrible, so she just ends up getting the one with rum flavoring. Of course being a Gellar, she just has to then complain that it just doesn't have enough rum in it. The ice cream boy doesn't mind, he's used to it and so are me and my dad. Her complaining won't last more than ten minutes because the second she gets home she mixes up a drink. Fun times.

I don't know why but I think ice cream really tells you a lot about the people who eat it. Maybe that's why people like it so much.

I come home and usually chill in the pool with my mom doing water aerobics to burn off the sugar and calories we just ate. It's good bonding time, according to my dad.

After our ice cream adventure, my mom and I are flopping around in the pool in matching Mommy and Me black halter bikinis that we got for free. Ah, the perks of being a celebrity. I'm such a professional freeloader. My laptop is the new Mac Book, but instead of an apple lighting up, it's a bell. Then of course, I get photographed with it at Starbucks and Dell simply cannot bear little old me with a…Mac. I can just picture a bald CEO shuddering. So off they went to ship me a Dell laptop, but instead of saying Dell, it says Bell. It's quite a life I have.

Wow, my mind really gets off track. Anyway, my mom always attempts to act friendly with me.

"So Bell darling, how's school?" she says as she does a couple of spins in the water, looking like a tornado.

"Fine," I reply deadpanned. There's not much to say about school.

"Okay, how's dancing?" she tries again. Ahhh dance, a topic I can truly relate to. I live, eat, and breathe dance. Oh and Baskin Robbins ice cream too.

"Fantasmic. That's the song we're quick stepping to this month. Maksim and I are taking a break from Latin to prepare for the competition in July. He says that talent scouts for Britney are coming. Oh my god mom, what if Britney sees me and wants me to be a backup dancer?!?!" I start freaking out and jump up and down, splashing my mom in the process. She cringes but starts to giggle and splash back.

"No seriously mom, what if?" I ask. Dance is my dream. I would throw away anything for it.

"Then your father and I would have to discuss your options," she replies. My stomach flips a 180 and I don't feel like swimming much anymore.

"That means no. I don't see why I can't join an A-list celebrity on tour if she offers. That'd be such great exposure," I try to argue. This is really pissing me off. Can't my mother see that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity?

"No it means we would discuss your options if the opportunity ever came. Do you have any idea how exhausting a tour is, Bell? Dance is exhausting itself, but 24/7? When would you have time to study and enjoy your childhood?" my mom asks, like she has any idea what dancing is.

"I'm not a baby anymore mom! I don't need a childhood, dancing is enough. And a tour will be fun. There's tutors and friends and costumes and screaming fans. You always say that you and Aunt Mitchie had your greatest times backstage on Connect 3's tours!" I'm almost yelling now.

"But you're my baby. Bell, tours are so tiring and you miss out on so much in real life. I'm sure you'd miss Bel-Air and Evelyn!" she tries to convince me that dancing for millions of people isn't fun. Psh.

"Eve would be supportive!" I yell back.

"Honey, daddy and I are supportive of your dancing, you know that. I'm not saying you should stop dancing. I'm just saying I don't think you're mentally or physically ready for something like a tour, if the opportunity should ever arise. I would know," my mom says. Like she'd know. She went on two national tours like a bazillion years ago with my dad.

"You know what. Just forget it, I already have thanks to you," I snipe as I walk out of the pool, shivering as I take in the cool air.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days have passed since the "incident" as my dad calls it. Everyone is walking on eggshells around me and the only person who has the guts to talk to me is Eve. It's a Monday today, my least favorite day of the week.

"You know Bell, mommy is pretty upset," my dad tries to tell me in the car. The parental units thought it would be better if my dad drove me to dance practice then school.

"Huh. That makes two of us," I reply just full of enthusiasm!

"Well I hope this little shenanigan is over soon. Mommy is only looking out for you," he says.

"I'm sure," I retort deadpanned. We drive up to the familiar building, my home away from home. Bel-Air Dance Studio, the greatest place in the world.

"I'm looking forward to watching you dance Bell. It's been awhile since I've seen you're magic," my dad offers with a smile.

"Well, prepare to be knocked off your socks!" I say enthusiastically. Dancing is one thing I could talk about for hours and hours. Instead of being well, knocked off his socks, my dad just has a farway look on his face.

"Hello!?!? Dad?!?! Nate Gray!?!?" I make a windshield wiper movement across his face with my arm. It seems to have worked.

"Oh sorry honey. It's just that that's exactly what mommy said the first time she showed me her producing skills," he says with a dreamy look on his face. My parents often do that whole reminiscing thing, it's actually kind of freaky. My dad locks the car and we walk into the studio, where Maksim greets me with the European kiss-kiss cheek thing. My dad takes a seat in the corner to watch me dance for half an hour, before I'm off to school. I grab my costume out of the bag, and walk off into the back room to change. Oh shit, I forgot this costume is basically the size of an anorexic Lindsey Lohan. Rut-roh. WWSDD? (What would Scooby Doo do?). Okay well, I guess I can put it on and just distract him with a super duper dance routine.

I walk out and my dad practically has an aneurysm right there and then.

"Bell Marie Black! Where in the world did you get that outfit?" he says very impatiently.

"Uhm, mommy and I picked it out a couple of weeks ago," I say innocently. Pulling the mommy card always works with my dad because he's a pushover for my mom.

"That thing is the size of a couple of postage stamps!" he sputters as Maksim laughs in the corner. I make a mental note to "accidentally" jab him where the sun doesn't shine later.

"Well it needs to light so I can move swiftly," I say and a twirl around making the blue sequined fabric spin around me, "Here let's get started". I click on the stereo and fast Latin music by the Gipsy Kings plays.

I do a couple of swings then greet Maksim in the middle of the dance floor where we engage in a crazy fast routine. I can hear my dad suck in his breath as my spins get faster and faster. He's probably scared I'll fall over in my 3 inch heels. Whatever. As if the costume wasn't enough to give him a heart attack, Maksim launches me in the air and barely catches me by my two twig legs. It sounds dangerous, because it is. But it's just as much fun and beauty. I finally finish off and my dad starts to clap.

"That was very nice Bell, but I'm gonna need to see some of those dance moves toned down. What if you twisted something? And I'm going to have to talk to mommy about that costume…" my dad says as his mind wanders off to his hugemongous to do list in his mind.

"Well I don't wanna be late to school. Today's the day everyone's getting asked to the Summer Ball," I say referring to the end of year dance my lame excuse of a school was throwing. Still, it's fun to dress up.

"Fun. Remember, all teenage boys want is sex. So don't let them trick you Bell. Your mother and I raised you better than that," my dad warns cautiously.

"How would you know?" I ask with a smirk. My dad blushes and steps on the pedal, driving up to school. No doubt about it, my parents get it on a lot. I mean, a lot. They even bought soundproof walls for their bedroom. Yay!

"Well bye dad!" I say all hunky-dory and walk out to the school where I greet my best friend Eve.

"Hey. Did you get asked yet?" she says in a very hyper manner. Woah slow down, girl.

"What? I just got to school!" I retort and open my locked, where a note flies out. What does it say? I unwrap the crinkly note written in jagged boy handwriting on a piece of notebook paper. Hmm, this slob didn't even rip off the perforated edges. Wait a second, this jerk is Dave O'Brien, the star quarterback of the football team!?!? And this jerk is asking me to the ball!??! Oh my god!

"OMG Eve!" I squeal and shove the note in her freckled face. She quickly scans it but starts to frown.

"Dave spelled your name wrong…and he didn't capitalize or punctuate… " she points out.

"Who cares Eve!?!? It's Dave!" I say and clutch the note dramatically to my chest ala Shakespeare.

"Well whatever, it's your date," she replies, waiving off my defense for Dave. Just then, the cute guy in my music class approaches us. Weird, considering he never talks and just plays his guitar for hours.

"Hey Bell, Eve. Uhm I'm Jake from your music class if you don't remember," he says nervously. He';s gripping his red palms.

"I remember," I say with a smile. He's cute, but the nervousness just makes it better.

"Uhm, well, I just wanted to give you this. So uhm see you in music!" he says quickly and dashes off before I can process what just happened. How did I end up in the middle of the hall with my best friend and a yellow paper wrapped box in my hand? Ooh it's heavy. Luckily, Eve snaps me out of my daze.

"Hello! Bell? Open the damn thing or I will!" she yells. Okay, okay. Jesus Christ, woman! I carefully unwrap the box, purposely trying not to rip the paper. Wow, either Jake is a really good gift wrapper or his mom did it for him. Let's hope it's the first.

I open the box and it's a music box in the shape of a heart. I flip the lid open and bells play a gorgeous song as Belle and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast glide across the surface in a sophisticated waltz. Awww. A note falls out on creamy letter paper. "Bell, be my belle at the ball. Jake," it says in boy handwriting.

"Dude! That was soooo sweet! So who are you going to go with? Cause I'll take the one you don't want!" Eve exclaims with a giggle. Eve is a big flirt. She totally started the wearing your heart on your sleeve trend, literally. She decided one day to pin a golden heart to her sweater and tada! A trendsetter was born!

Oh god, who am I going to pick? Sweet Jake or super hot Dave?


	5. Chapter 5

You know those gossip rags that claim celebrities are just like average people with embarrassing pictures? I mean seriously, why wouldn't celebrities be just like the Average Joe? We burp and buy toilet paper too you know! Cause I totallllly didn't. Anyways, five minutes ago I was staring at the back of Jake's raggedy head watching him play guitar in music class and now my face is deep in Eve's collarbone, just about burning of embarrassment.

It started when people started hearing a loud matriarchal voice in the halls yelling at Principal Dooley. First it was kind of funny listening to the old lady yelling at stiff old Dooley. But then I realized the loud old lady wasn't just some nobody, it was my grandmother. That's when the seat sinking started.

"No that's Bell Black. Black as in the color? The silly looking tie you're wearing! Look down for goodness's sake! Sacre Bleu! This is ridiculous. I demand to see her this instant! I am her grandmother, what kind of public institution are you running here?" I heard the very convincing woman called my grandmother yell.

"Of course, you can see your granddaughter, but we're going to need her name once again, then yours to confirm the relation. At Bel-Air High School, we take security very seriously. We simply cannot release a student to any woman claiming to be her grandmother," Principal Dooley replied, cool as a cucumber and started flipping through his notebook of rosters, "Now is that Isabelle? Or Annabelle? Or what?"

With a school of 1000 celebrity offspring, you'd think the principal would know all the kids names. But guess not, oh well. I have bigger problems, like how the whole music class has stopped banging their instruments and listened to the fight outside. I am simply crouched in the corner with Eve, who is used to my maniacal family and is looking outside the window for me every few minutes. I just can't bear to see what she's doing now. I love my grandmother, but she's a bit out there.

"No, god damnit! It's just Bell, B-E-L-L. Like Ring-a-ling-ling!" my grandmother seems to have had it to here and no one messes with my grandmother when she's all riled up. She starts to curse in French.

"Oh yes, yes. One of our honor roll students, now your name ma'am?" Dooley says in a quivering voice.

"Marie Joan Beaumont Dovolani Gallo Schmitz Gellar, god damnit. Just get me my granddaughter. This is an absolute emergency, of upmost importance," my grandmother says tapping her feet. Uhoh, she's used the whole shebang of a name. My part French grandmother must have called upon all her dramatic French roots and "fell in love" three times with the wrong men, each from a different European country before settling down with my grandpa. She was a opera singer on cruise ships and he was the pool boy with a good intention of starting his own cruise boat business. Lo and behold, ten years later, they were married and had a cruise franchise. Good ole Americans, they sure as hell beat the Italians, Spanish and Germans according to her.

Hmm, what can this emergency be? Maybe her fashion sense can tell me. I whisper to Eve to look for me, who returns from the window with a pained look.

"How bad is it?" I ask and prepare for the worst.

"Leather zebra print trench coat, pink feather boa, and cat eye sunglasses," she whispers back. My grandmother has some pretty eccentric fashion sense, so it must run in the family. She's very Joan Rivers-esque. My grandmother may be elderly, but she is certainly not old. She wears more eyeliner than I do in a year.

"Ooh," I groan and take it with a couple of grains of salt. Anyway, back to the conversation outside.

"It appears that your last names do not match," Dooley replies. My grandmother is about to explode.

"Oh really? Did you try all of them!?!?! I am her maternal grandmother! You can google me god damnit. Just search Gellar cruises heir Bell Black!" she yells, getting sarcastic now. Yeah, you get them girl?

"Fine, fine. You may see your grandmother. Let me send a messenger to get her," Dooley replies meekly, simply sick of this crazy woman who draws a strong resemblance to Joan Rivers.

"No! I need to take her with me! Her mother is in the hospital!" my grandmother yells, even louder. I'm pretty sure the whole school can hear now. Wait, hospital? Holy crap! I'm no longer scared about embarrassment because at this point the whole class is staring at me, even Jake. Whatever, I'm out of here and dash through the door.

I run and hug my stick thin grandmother, who smells of the familiar Chanel #5.

"Bell, we need to go now. Goodbye, Principal Dooney. I hope you have a good day because that will make one of us," she says to Dooney as she rushes me to her tiny red sports car parked on the sidewalk.

"Oh my god, Grandmarie what happened?" I ask, using the old nickname I came up with when I was 5.

"Your mother collapsed earlier today. She's in the hospital right now, come on," she says rapidly and steps on the pedal even more so.

By the time we get to Cedars-Sinai, a million thoughts have already run through my mind. What if she dies? Then the last memory she will have of me is me walking out on her? What if I caused it? What if she's dying. No! I silenced my unhappy thoughts. My mother is healthy as a horse. Stop it, Bell.

My grandmother rushes me into the elevator and into room 1153, where my mom is laying on a tiny hospital bed in a gross gown. My dad is sitting in a wicker chair next to her, holding her hand.

"Oh Bell!" she gasps and tries to reach up to hug me. I run over and give her a big one, but before we can discuss more, the doctor runs in. My grandmother walks out to give us some privacy.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Black, and I see your daughter is here. You might want to sit down for this honey," the freakishly smiley doctor says to me. What? Oh my god. My mom has a crazy condition. I really do need to fit down. I take a seat on the sofa by the television.

"Good news, Mrs. Black. You'll be just a-okay. The reason you collapsed today was from exhaustion and stress," the doctor started.

"Exhaustion and stress doesn't make people collapse, doctor," my dad interjects. My dad is so overprotective he'd probably go to extreme lengths to find every single doctor in the world if my mom was actually sick.

"Well, the exhaustion and the stress was not good for your developing fetus, which made you collapse. Yes, you heard me right. You're indeed six weeks pregnant!" the doctor says enthusiastically. HOLY SHIT! DID I JUST HEAR HER RIGHT? My mom is knocked up!?!? Isn't she way too old to have babies or even get laid? I'm going to be a big sister? If I can't handle babysitting for Uncle Jason's kids, how am I going to juggle a sibling? But babies are awfully cute…

The look on my mom's face is priceless, it's a genuinely shocked face with her mouth in a perfect glossy O, and my dad has his head in his lap. The doctor leaves us to deal with the news. My dad still hasn't said anything. I mumble a Congrats and walk over to the television to give my parents some much needed privacy. But I wouldn't be a Black if I didn't eavesdrop.

"Natey? Say something baby," my mom says softly, immediately regretting calling him baby. I think at this point my mom is more worried about my dad than her or the baby. My dad slowly raises his head up and is grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat.

"I'm gonna be a dad again!" he exclaims and gives my mom a big passionate kiss. My mom has tears running down her gross gown, and is whispering, "It's a miracle, miracle". When I was 6, I heard my aunt Mitchie gossiping with this woman on the phone once about how my parents were trying for another baby but it wasn't working and my mom was horribly sad. My daydreams are interrupted by my mom yelling, "Group hug!" I rush over and give my family plus one the biggest hug ever.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm super sorry for taking so long to update. I was swamped with end of year projects. Only one more week of school then I will update to my heart's content!**

"How about Krystal?" Aunt Mitchie says for the tenth time.

"No. Michelle, how many times do I have to tell you I am not naming my baby Krystal. It sounds like a stripper and you've already mentioned it," my mom replies exasperated. Eve and I hold in a giggle and turn back to E! News.

"No you see dear Caitlyn, this Krystal is different because I'm spelling it with a K this time!" Aunt Mitchie tries again. That woman just can't give up.

"That's even more stripper sounding!" my mom yells as my dad runs down the stairs.

"Who's a stripper?" my dad says alarmed and shoots a glance in my direction. Wow, dad. Thanks for the support and reassurance. I shake my head and shoot a deadpanned glance in Mitchie's direction.

"No one. But Mitchie here is trying to get me to name our baby Krystal with a K," my mom says with a giggle.

"Absolutely not. I dated a girl named Krystal once. She wasn't very nice," my dad says with a pondering look on his face and his eyes look as if they are in deep thought.

"Yeah, because she was a total biznatch," my mom says with a glare. Hmmm, time to do some research later. The best part about having celebrity parents is that you can Google them for old news.

"Anyway, how about Josh if it's a boy?" Mitchie suggests, breaking up the conversation.

"I'll consider it," my mom says. My dad shrugs, he doesn't care because he's given all naming duties to my mom. "You're carrying the baby, you can name it" he told her.

"Ooh! How about Michelle?" Aunt Mitchie suggests wayyyy to enthusiastically. Self-centered much?

"Uhm, Mitchie as much as I love you, I am not having two children with names that rhyme. It is so P. Diddy Sean John like…" my mom trails off as she shudders about P. Diddy. Apparently they met once and he was a total snob to her.

"Fine. I guess I'll have to name my own child Michelle," Aunt Mitchie says.

"With what man? And where were you the first time around to name Bell? You might have actually had a chance with Michelle," my mom cackles as Eve and I burst into laughter. Me named Michelle? Hah. Aunt Mitchie just lets out a Hmph.

"Oh wait! I have a name! It's perfect," my mom says with a content sigh.

"Ooh, what?" Aunt Mitchie says eager beaverly.

"Not saying. But it can be used for boys and girls," my mom says with a smirk on her face.

"Oh god, Caitlyn. It's not one of those god awful tomboy names right? Like Sam or Andy. Those are horrid. Promise me you will name your daughter a girl's name and your son a boy's name," Aunt Mitchie replies with a shudder.

"Don't worry. It's all right," my mom replies.

My dad comes rushing down the stairs again. "Hey you guys. We're having a party! I just called Shane and Jason and the girls, they're coming over!" he yells as he walks to the door to the pool.

"A party? For what?" my mom asks, worried.

"For the baby! We haven't had a chance to celebrate yet! And the end of you and Bell's little tiff!" he exclaims and starts bringing out the cocktail shaker. In a previous life, my dad was obviously a bartender. He loves any chance to make drinks. We have a bar in our house out by the pool house.

"Fine Fine. Let me go get my one-piece. Mitch, want a suit?" my mom grunts and gets up.

"Why the one-piece? You never wear that one," my dad asks. He likes to keep tabs on EVERYTHING, even my mom's swimsuit choice. He's super OCD like that.

"Because, Mr. Black, I am carrying your damn baby and I am getting fat, all thanks to you," my mom grunts. As you can see, no topic is taboo for my mother, and she doesn't give a rat's ass about her profanity. If only she was like that about my swearing.

"Well, Mrs. Black, it takes two to make a baby and you look gorgeous," my dad reassures. My parents are so weird. They call each other Mr. and Mrs. Black like in Gone with the Wind or Pride and Prejudice. They are so old fashioned. Eve's parents call each other Liza and Matthew like normal people. But then again, Eve calls her parents Liza and Matthew. They're weird hippies like that.

"Whateverrrrr," my mom brushes him off and runs up the stairs to change, and Eve and I run up to my room to wear my freebie swimsuits I get from retailers. Eve picks a pink plaid tube and boy short piece and I wear a plain red halter cut bikini, ala Baywatch. We run down the stairs, cause well, we're party animal! Whoo…..

"Bell, that top is too low. Change into something more modest," my dad cautions. He's shaking up some orange thing.

"Nuhuh. The baby we are celebrating will come out wearing less than this so there," I say immaturely and stick out my tongue. My dad is a sucker for witty remarks.

"Okay fine. What can I get you girls?" my dad asks.

"I'll have a virgin screwdriver," Eve says, not even bother asking for alcohol.

"So, an orange juice?" my dad asks as I sink to the floor laughing.

"Oh you know me too well Mr. B," she responds.

"You got it, Evie. What about you honey?" he asks me.

"Make it a strawberry daiquiri," I say. I don't bother asking for a virgin one cause my dad is an alcohol/drugs/sex hawk. No way he'd give it to me anyway. In about a minute, our drinks are ready and Jason, Harmony, Melody, and Shane are here. I mean, it doesn't take that long to make an orange juice…Eve and I take our drinks outside, where my mom and Mitchie are splashing around in the pool.

"Ooh, girls, you look darling! Let me take a picture!" Aunt Mitchie says, gets out of the pool, dashes for her camera, and has us posing before we can refuse.

"1, 2, 3, Say cheese!" and she clicks. Then another click goes off.

"Uhm, Aunt Mitchie is there something wrong with your camera? It clicked twice," I ask.

"No…" Aunt Mitchie says then slowly comes to a realization just as my mom does. "Those bastards!," she curses and gets out.

"Okay, get the hell off my property right now before I call the cops on you damn paps!" my mom yells into the bushes, which seem to be rustling as if Tarzan and Jane themselves were getting it on in there.

"I will have you sued if you have any pictures whatsoever!" my mom warns again, "Nate honey, get the phone," she yells into the house. My dad comes out with the phone and a confused look on his face. Just as my mom and Mitchie turn around to intercept the phone, something, sprints out of the bushes and runs out of the back yard.

"Look! There he goes!" Eve yells and points at the still running paparazzi! My dad chases after him, but he's gone by the time my dad returns.

"I tried," he shrugs and my mom is cursing to herself.

And Aunt Mitchie, well, all she can say is "Gosh darnit, what a ruined perfect picture!"

**Whoo! 3 reviews last chapter. Let's see if we can get 5 this time. If you do, I'll update soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

Smack. Crash. Bam. Oooh, is that another smack? Ten pointer! I could seriously be the next major league baseball pitcher. If only I could name one…At this very instant, I am throwing random miscellaneous objects at my television screen. Why you may ask. Well, at this moment, Mr. Mario Lopez himself is telling everyone watching national television about my "drinking habit". Not to mention, all the gossip rags I subscribe to have my face on them! That is so not how I imagined my cover of InTouch. At least US Weekly and People have the sense to talk about Angelina Jolie or something. Those are the only two magazines that publish the truth. It's true! No pun intended.

I pick up the nearest copy of Ok! and reread the article of lies about me. On the cover is a huge blown-up pixelized picture of Eve and me learning forward with huge smiles on our faces. Not to mention, our non-alcoholic drinks are in our hands, looking mighty frosty and delicious.

" _BELL BLACK: LESSONS FROM UNCLE SHANE?: Cookie-cutter sweet Gellar Cruises heiress, Bell Black, has been caught in a scandal at last! Early afternoon last week in the backyard of the Black residence, Bell was caught with an unidentified friend holding what appears to be an alcoholic drink. This leaves questions to her faithful fans: Is 15 year-old Bell Black an alcoholic? And why are her parents, former music legends Caitlyn and Nate Black just sitting around in the background? Well one thing is for sure, you've got 6 years to go, Bell . _

_Not to mention, she seems to be wearing a rather indecent bikini for a girl of her age. Sources claim "Caitlyn doesn't give a shit what her daughter wears. Bell can get away with any choice of clothing and she knows it". This has been the first time Bell has stepped out in this type of attire, but the real question is, what else has she been doing behind closed doors?_

_In the recently released photograph, both Bell and her friend's eyes seem red and bloodshot. Another nasty habit? You've got too much ahead of you, little girl. Don't waste your days late night partying. A family friend, Carol, says "She gets the booze from Shane [Gray]'s stash"_

_About 15 years ago, Shane Gray, front man of former pop-rock band Connect 3 (which included Bell 's father Nate), fell into a deep spiral of depression, drugs, and alcohol after his band became too corporate for his liking. Soon after, he met Michelle Torres, who seemed to have tamed him for a while. But a mysterious infidelity scandal caused them to split a couple years after their marriage. Could it be that Shane has relapsed and dragged little neglected Bell with him?_

_Prior to this incident, Bell Black has been living peacefully and scandal free in Bel-Air, California. The Gellar Cruises heiress and daughter of music legends Caitlyn and Nate Black enjoys ballroom dancing and hopes to reach national standards. What does the future hold for Bell? " _

Argh! This is preposterous. First of all, I didn't "release" those pictures, they broke into my property and stole them. That violates like ten different laws! And, I do not have a partying or alcohol addiction. Everyone knows that chlorine in pools are not good for your eyes. Duh. And Uncle Shane isn't my alcohol dealer. He'd tell my parents ASAP. How dare they call my parents ignorant fools! And, I don't even know a Carol!

Just then, my dad comes down the stairs. "Oh Bell. Don't read or watch that crap. Mommy and I will fix it soon. Promise" he says as he gently takes the magazine out of my hand and changes the channel to Jeopardy.

"Super promise?" I whimper as Alex Trebec grills a nerdy looking librarian named Josephine Neaux. Haha, imagine if she married someone named Lyfe. She'd be Mrs. No Life.

"Super promise. We already have a statement ready to be released in about an hour," he says.

"Okay. Cool. Can I fax it to the publicist?" I ask. I want to solve this myself.

"Sure thing honey," he says and hands me a piece of Gellar Cruises stationary with the statement on it. My dad is very in touch with our cruises. I dash up the stairs to the study and punch in my dad's publicist's number. All done and sent! Soon, everything will be a-okay. Right?

I wander around the house until an evening edition of E! News comes on.

" _Bell Black seems to have redeemed herself. Fresh off the press, the Black publicist has released a statement regarding the recent photo scandal involving Bell and an unidentified friend with so called __alcoholic drinks__. The statement says, "The lies the media has spread about the Black family are absolutely fabricated. Bell is in no way, shape or form, an alcoholic, __drug addict__, or wild child. She has never touched a drop of alcohol in her life. Caitlyn and Nate believe in strong morals and values in raising their children and they are most definitely not neglecting their __little princess__. Bell has been living her life the way she has for 15 years and would like to continue it. Caitlyn, Nate, and Bell ask for their privacy in this dark time," So now you've heard it folks, little Bell Black is indeed a chip off the innocent block. No worries for this young heiress. Let's hope she can continue her adolescence without anymore trauma. This has been __Elise Gore__, good night" _

Well I'm glad someone believes me, even if it is dumb as rocks Elise Gore. People never really know what these scandals are like until you're in one. Is this what Paris and Britney feel like? Is this why my parents left Hollywood? So I would never endure something like this? Well it didn't work, mom and dad. So why don't we just go back into showbiz? Maybe they'll take me seriously then. Because I am no force to be reckoned with.


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay, people. I've gotten one review per chapter for the last two chapters, all from MsNickJ! This is seriously not cool. I will go on hiatus if I don't get anymore appreciation!_

"Hmm," my mom says as she flips a page of What to Expect When You're Expecting. Uhm, shouldn't you already know what to expect? Then again, this confirms my theory that I was really adopted from aliens on Mars.

"What do you mean Hmm!?!? Mother, this is serious. It's the freaking Summer Ball!" I exclaim.

"Yes, I know. Summer Ball. Spiked punch, low cut dresses, dirty dancing. I was a teenager once too Bell," my mom says uncaringly as she rocks back and forth in the hammock. Hello!?! Could she please share whatever she's smoking with the rest of us? Summer Ball is in five days, and I still don't have my dress or a date!

"So, Jake or Dave? Jesus Christ, mother!" I yell. As you can tell, I am perfectly incapable of making my own decisions. Therefore, I need to ask my 36 year old mother. Yeah, I know. My life is pathetic.

"You know, Bell Bell, scientific studies show that girls tend to choose boys like their fathers," my mom says and flips the page again with a lick of a finger. How interesting can it be?

"Is daddy like your father?" I ask, sticking out my tongue since I already know the way too obvious answer.

"Oh god no," my mom says with a laugh, "No way in hell would Grandpa ever have been in a band or named his daughter Bell or wore skinny jeans." My grandpa was such a classic conservative dude. He liked playing football, going yachting, and doing business. He wasn't sensitive at all, except for when it came to his daughter. "Anything for my Caitlyn!" I can just hear him saying from heaven with a halo over his head. Wait, not a halo. Maybe a baseball cap or something. But just maybe.

"See, that totally disproves your theory and still doesn't answer my question!" I exclaim in protest.

"Well, it is pretty obvious this Dave kid is a total chauvinistic douche and Jake seems very sweet and kind, like your father" my mom says bluntly. You can always count on my mom for her honest opinion.

"So I should pick Jake?" I ask, eagerly awaiting the answer I've wanted since this morning.

"You seem pretty smitten, Bell Bell," she replies. Uhm, okay. Get with the times, mother. People do not say smitten anymore. What a weirdy.

Before I can reply with a snarky quip, my dad comes outside with a grim look on his face. Something must be wrong.

"Bell, why don't you go for a swim. Mommy and I need to talk," he says. And with that last comment, my mom shoots up from the hammock, dropping What to Expect When You're Expecting into the water.

"What!? What's going on?" she says, anxiously. This is getting too freaky for me. It's like an alternate Matrix dimension. Uhm, I'll just go get the book…over there…yeah.

"Honey, you know the economy has been tough," my dad starts off after kissing the nonexistent to everyone but him bump on my mom's abdomen.

"Duh, I watch the news darling. It's just like when we were teenagers," my mom says nostalgically.

"So, we're kind of low on money. Like LOW LOW," he continues calmly. Wait a second, WHAT!?!?!? And with the shock, I fall into the pool in my sundress and drop the net I was fishing the book out with. Splash! I resurface and my parents are giving me a weird look.

"Bell, go inside and change before you catch pneumonia," my dad says as What to Expect When You're Expecting disappears to the bottom of the pool. Okey dokey, I think I've had enough of this serious talk anyway.

I run up the stairs and change into a comfy pair of sweats and an old Beatles T-shirt. As I come down, the first thing I hear are my parents arguing. Uh oh, my parents never argue…

"Nate! How could you do this!?!?" my mom screams. Do what!?!?

"Caitlyn, calm down! It is not the end of the world!" my dad replies, struggling to remain calm. Maybe I don't want to go back out to the battlefield…I might become a casualty.

"Not to you it isn't! I'm not going through this hell again!" my mom yells back. Yeah, on second thought. I think I'm just going to sit here, eavesdrop, and paint my toenails Waitress Red. Who comes up with these names anyway?

"We have to! Do you think I want to do this?" my dad yells back, giving up his serene act.

"You promised! You promised me the day we found out! You fucking promised, Nathaniel!" my mom yells like a crazy person. Found out what? Promised what?

"I know I promised, but we don't have a choice," my dad says calmly again, as my mom starts to sob. He takes her in for an embrace.

"Please, Natey. Please. I can stop going to the spa. Bell can cut back on dancing costumes. Honey we don't have to do this," she cries desperately. Wait, Bell is not doing anything unless she knows what is going on.

"Shh, just calm down Caity. For the baby," my dad coos as my mom cries her eyes out. When will she ever run out of tears? And what the fuck is going on? I guess this is one thing, whatever it is, that What to Expect did not help prepare my mom for.

_Anyway, the chapters are getting shorter…Thanks to the people who nominated me for OCRA. Review!_


	9. Chapter 9

**IM BACKKKK! Thanks to Mattie, Magicalrose, Rachael, and anyone else who's reviewed. Keep those coming. Anyhoo have you all heard about the rumored Camp Rock 2 plot? It's total shit!**

"Soo, uhm, is there, well, anything you guys wanna tell me?" I apprehensively ask. Okay, Bell, just rip it off like a Band-Aid. There's no point in avoiding the big pink elephant in the room. I've been walking on eggshells for exactly two days. No one will tell me what is going on, not even my aunt Mitchie, who will usually spill it after a couple of drinks. Well, this awkward silence is quite refreshing. I'll just sit here bouncing up and down the couch until the springs start squeaking enough for them to let the cat out of the bag.

"Bell. Stop it. Your mother hasn't been herself these past few days as maybe you have noticed and that wretched sound isn't helping the baby," my dad calmly says. Wait, since when does my dad mention my mom as your mother? And does he not care about the well being of my mom too or just the baby?

"Well, I would stop if someone would just tell me what the hell is going on? Why is mom sad all the time? Why did she flip three shits the other day? And most importantly, are we poor?" I ask critically. I am not taking silence as an answer anymore.

"Bell Bell. The reason I'm so upset is because your father made some decisions without talking to me, and I'm not too happy with the outcome," my mom says solemnly. The bags under her eyes left from crying are still visible.

"Well, is everything okay now?" I ask impatiently. I start to tap my foot on the carpet.

"Mommy and I have worked it out and we're just going to try this arrangement, okay?" my dad asks? Oh god, they're getting divorced. He's using the soft voice, where he goes back to calling mom mommy and dad daddy. He's preparing me for the worst. I shrink back into my seat a couple feet.

"What arrangement?" I squeak.

"Daddy is going back to work. He's going to record a song with another Hollywood star for this charity event. Just one song. You see, the day we found out I was pregnant with you; daddy and I promised we would never go back to showbiz because it turned the people we loved into people we didn't like. We didn't recognize ourselves anymore, but mainly just daddy," my mom explains.

"Well, why are you doing it then if you guys just end up sad?" I ask.

"Why anyone else takes up a job. We need the money. Your dance lessons and the mortgage and everything add up. We just don't have enough money to keep this lifestyle. This recording will set us straight for about 5 years," my dad interjects. Ah, the concept called money that is unknown to us immature adolescent.

"Oh, one more thing. The publicist wants me to do the duet with someone I know well," my dad says. Uh oh, I know that face. He's creating a cushion to land on when my mom prepares to kick his ass for what he's about to say.

"Really? Well, call Celina and ask her to come over for pot roast!" my mom says joyfully. Wow, that is the happiest I've seen her in a couple of days. Celina is this lady my dad dated for like 3 months. She and my mom are actually like BFFs that never see each other. I know, weirdoooos.

"Uhm, it's not Celina," my dad says meekly. My mom shoots him a look.

"Who is it Nathaniel?" my mom interrogates. Best stay out of this one…

"Dana Dana," my dad squeaks. Very similar to my previous one…Wait, who the fuck is this Dana Dana?

"WHAT!?!?!" my mom explodes. Oh…scary. Who is this Dana Dana skank? What a skank name…I think I will call her DoubleD cause that's probably the size of her fake skank boobs.

"It wasn't my choice baby. You know that. And I promise she'll be on her best behavior," my dad says.

"You say that like she's your pet! Which is not surprising!" my mom says rudely.

"Baby, you know that was a really long time ago. And we're both different people now. Like, I'm not a workaholic. She is. I'm married. She's…." my dad trails off. Yeah, it's better he doesn't finish.

"Fine," my mom says with a pout and my dad kisses her nose. My mom's face immediately brightens. Yay, everything is back to normal again! Then, my dad wiggles his eyebrows at my mom. Then my mom gives him a sly smile. Yup, thing's are definitely okay now.

"Mommy and I have some things to sort out upstairs. Why don't you splash around downstairs?" my dad asks. Suuuuure.

"Sure thing," I say with a bright smile. I'm just happy everything is okay. And off my parents go to consummate their marriage for the like ten bazillionth time.

Ding Dong! The thing about the being the only real family in the Connect 3 "family" means that the other bachelors plus Mitchie always randomly drop by. Let's go see who has graced us with their presence. Well, just graced me. Mom and dad are busy getting it on.

"Oh hi aunt Mitchie!" I say genuinely surprised. I thought it would be Jason or Shane. Hey wait! Mitchie + drinks = Dana Dana!

"Hi Bell! Is your mom home?" she asks in her sweet pre-five drinks voice.

"Yeah, but she's upstairs with dad. Why don't you come in and wait with her?" I ask and wink a couple of times, "You catch my drift?"

"Yeah. It's the same drift I've also had the misfortune experience of telling other people about," she says and steps into the living room.

"What can I get you aunt Mitchie? Rum with coke?" I ask. Even though I can't drink any alcohol, I'm allowed to bartend it. My mother claims it's a real science.

"Sure and keep them coming," aunt Mitchie replies. Three drinks later, my aunt Mitchie is on the edge of being wasted. One more drink should do it but I don't want to take my chances. She needs to have some recognition of Dana Dana to tell me about her.

"Hey aunt Mitchie, who's Dana Dana?" I ask nonchalantly. My aunt Mitchie almost swallows her coke whole.

"Who told you about that skank?" she asks alarmingly. Ah, so she is a skank.

"Dad. He's going back to work to do a duet with her," I reply.

"Oh. My. God. I can imagine your mother is not too happy about it. Bell, either pick a side or run and hide. World War Three is coming! Wheee!" aunt Mitchie says crazily.

"Yeah, but why is Dana Dana such a skank? Who is she?" I ask.

"She's this world renowned pianist your father used to date," she says bitterly.

"So? He used to date Celina and my mom loves her," I inquire.

"Yeah because he dated Celina before he met your mom. Duh Bellllllie," she slurs.

"So dad cheated on mom?!?!?" I ask alarmed. What is this debauchery? Dad would never do that!

"Noooooooooo! You're as stupid as Dana Dana Bell. Once, your mom and dad took a break when they were maybe 18. And in came this skank Dana Dana who swooped up your dad like a piece of meat. Your dad being the depressed dipshit he was back then, let her. When your mom found out, she was so mad. It was like the Ross and Rachel thing on Friends. Oh wait, that's before your time. Anyhoo, she was a skank and wanted to steal your dad from your mom. But good old Caitlyn came back furious and kicked her ass," aunt Mitchie explained.

"Seriously? Like a bitchfight?" I ask. This is rather interesting.

"No! She just came over and said some horrible words then went and threatened your dad," she replies.

"With what?" I ask.

"Something along the lines of 'Nathanial Black, if you stay with that pit viper ho bag skank bitch slut, you will never ever touch, see, or hear from me again!' Of course, Dana Dana was gone the minute after," Mitchie explains.

Oh. Who knew my parents were so forlorn? I guess they didn't always have a cookie-cutter relationship. Good thing that's all over though…right?

**Whoo! Review everyone! Or else!**


	10. Chapter 10

"Like. Oh. My. God. He was soooo cute," I squealed for probably the millionth time as I lunged into the clear blue water, expecting to be caught. Splash. "What the hell was that for?" I sputter to Maksim, my supposed oh-so-loyal confidante. It takes me a while to catch my breath.

"We're supposed to be practicing lifts for the new dance. You aren't listening to the beat. Instead, it's OMG! He's so cute! The Summer Ball was awesome! Some bitch stole Eve's dress!" Maksim replied, imitating me. I so don't sound like that…right?

"Sorry sorry. Okay one last thing. So like we got home and he kissed me! Even though my mom was like ten feet away on the couch!" I squealed again and got out of the pool, preparing myself for another lift.

"Don't worry, I closed my eyes for the kissing part!" my mom yelled from her chaise in the shade.

"Yeah, I did too," I said starkly. And a jump! Whoosh. I feel the air rush past the drops of water on my back then Maksim's hands on my abdomen, lifting my above the pool. My mom starts to clap.

"Yes! Thank god. Good job Bell. We're done. See you next week!" Maksim says hurriedly. What's the rush dude? But before I can even mutter a goodbye, he's already dashed out my front door in swim trunks and all.

"Well that was rude," I say as I pull myself out of the pool towards my mother.

"No matter Bell! You can join daddy and me at the 6 month appointment for baby here," my mom says enthusiastically. My mom and dad are a-okay now, but I still would never spend more than 5 minutes in a room for babies with them. It's pink this, blue that, no screw that let's go with duckies!

"Yippee!" I sing, continuing with my favorite Jack in the Box commercial. I love old commercials. I YouTube them. Yeah yeah, I'm a loser.

"Anyways, it's time to go, so hop in the car and I'll be right out," my mom calls out. I shimmy into a skirt to wear over my one-piece and jump into the backseat of my dad's car, where I am soon joined by my parents.

"Hmm" my mom sighs. It's not a "I hate skanks named Dana Dana" sigh, it's more of a exasperated sigh.

"What is it, Caitlyn? The baby?" my dad asks alertly as he makes a full on stop at a 4 way stop. Loser. My dad is so anal about these little OCD things. Jeez.

"Yes. I just don't think the name I originally picked out is good enough anymore. It seems to bland, compared to Bell. There's not really a meaning," my mom sighs.

"Uhm, I had an idea," I squeak, apprehensive for my suggestion. My parent's eyes light up.

"Let's hear it Bell! I'm sure it'll be great," my dad encourages.

"So it's just a name for a girl and the chances are higher for a boy, so you guys will probably not even use it. I mean, if it was a girl, I doubt you'd use it anyway.." I ramble.

"Oh spit it out!" my mom snaps, just dying of anticipation.

"Aria. It's a song with both vocals and instruments. And since dad likes singing and you like producing, it's kinda a good mix for you guys," I suggest. All I hear is silence. Shit?

"Oh Bell, it's perfect!" my mom sighs with yet another kind of sigh. My dad as usual, agrees with my mom.

We pull up to the neonatal wing of the hospital and we hop out of the car, and down the hall into the room, where a perky nurse greets us.

"Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Black! I see that you've brought your daughter. I'm Nurse Debbie and I'll be checking on your baby today. If we're lucky, we'll be able to determine the sex," she says all in one breath. Wow, that was….perky!

"Yes, let's hope we are that fortunate," my mom replies as she gets onto the platform thing. I hear her let out a gush of breath as the cold gel is applied to her abdomen.

"All righty, now here's your baby's head and a hand," Debbie says as she points to the screen. I just see a dark blob, but whatever floats your boat.

"Our baby has a hand!" my dad says excitedly. No shit Sherlock…

"Ooh! It just turned around. Here's another hand!" Debbie says perkily, as always.

"It has TWO hands?" my dad asks astonishingly. Wow. I sure hope he wasn't this way with me. I probably would have died of embarrassment inside the womb.

"Uhm yes, Mr. Black. All babies tend to have two hands. Anyhoo, everything looks healthy. Good," Debbie answers slightly perturbed. Well, at least she stopped being perky. Suddenly, a loud thumping rings throughout the room. It scares the shit out of me.

"Oops! Didn't mean to startle you there, Miss Black! That's just your new sister's heartbeat!" Debbie squeals. Nope, perky's back. My parents however, look extremely happy.

"Uhoh I let the cat out the bag! So sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Black," she apologizes profusely.

"No no, no matter. We're just so excited for little Aria here," my mom says dreamily and she grazes her stomach.

"Now I just need a parent to come with me outside and sign some paperwork," Debbie says and she turns off the screen, to my parent's dismay.

"I'll go darling, you don't need to get up," my dad asks and follows Debbie outside. After they leave, my mother acknolwdges me for the first time since we got here.

"Bell! Grab the damn stick thing!" she says urgently.

"What?" I ask startled. What the hell is my mom planning?

"Come on, don't you wanna see your sister again? Let's have another go!" my mom blandishes. Well, I suppose another look couldn't hurt. I mean, how hard can it be?

"Okay, I think we do this then this," I mumble as I fix some cords as my mom applies the stick thing to her abdomen.

"Oh look! It's her head!" my mom squeals and points to the screen. All I see is a black mass. Then again, I didn't see anything before. Just as she's about to say something again, Debbie bursts into the room, my dad hot on her heels.

"What do you think you're doing?" Debbie reprimands. Uh-oh. Attack of the perky nurses gone bad.

"Oh I just wanted another look. Nate, darling, come here! It's her foot!" my mom yells.

"Oh, where?" my dad replies delighted. They ooh and ahh over the black screen.

"Mrs. Black?" Debbie addresses.

"Yes?" my mom answers.

"You're looking at your bladder," Debbie replies smugly.


	11. Chapter 11

Ding. Ding. Ding. There go the final 3 rings on the grandfather clock in my foyer. It's eight o'clock, and my dad is an hour late for dinner, like he's been for the past few days. First, a chord wasn't right. Then, they misplaced the sheet music. Who knows what the hell they're doing at that record label with Dana Dana and my dad?

"Mom, should we start without him?" I ask apprehensively, afraid of the reaction. I stare straight into my plate of seafood paella, my dad's favorite dish. My mom doesn't answer, and instead downs the rest of her sparkling cider and refills her cup to the brim. I bet she hates being pregnant right now.

"No. We will wait for your father. Whatever he's doing must be important for him to miss a family dinner," my mom finally replies and lifts her glass to her lips. At this point, I think she's only waiting so she can shove it in his face later.

Suddenly, the door slams open and I hear a pair of keys drop onto the windowsill. My dad is finally home…Wait a second…is he drunk? My dad stumbles into the dining room, slurring a few of his words.

"Caityyy baby I'm sorry. We went out for drinks, Danaaa and I. To celebrate you knowww? Like yeah," he slurs. I've been around drunk people my whole life. When Uncle Shane gets drunk, he gets really capricious and antsy. When Aunt Mitchie gets drunk, she turns loopy and stupid. When my mom gets drunk, she just lets loose. But I've never seen my dad drunk. He's the one pillar of stability in my life. Have I really lost that? It's kinda scary.

"Save it," my mom says as she slams the glass onto the table, causing a vibration. All I can do is feel sorry for the poor shrimp sitting in my plate. But before my dad can respond, he stumbles over to the couch and falls asleep. I can hear faint snores.

"Can I be excused?" I squeak. I'd rather go hungry than witness what's about to happen. I run up to my room, and try to escape my mother's sad sobs.

I wake up the next morning at noon- Ah how I love weekends- and rush down into the living room to find the surprise of my life. My mother is sitting on the couch, reading a magazine and drinking coffee...wearing silk pajamas? My mother always wears a cotton nightie or a cami and a pair of boxers. Never anything so modest.

"Where's dad?" I ask. My mom just gestures to the couch in the other room with a disgruntled noise. Then it hits me. My mom's crazy and orderly –When it comes to my mother, anything's possible- curls are gone. In their place are these artificially lackluster straight strands that fall dully around her shoulders. For years, she's wanted to straighten her hair, but my dad never let her. He loved her curls because it made her one and the same with us. We were the three musketeers, curls and all.

"What happened to your hair?" I cry, trying to hold back the tears.

"I figured if your father is not around to appreciate what he has, I don't need to pamper myself," my mom bluntly replies, stroking her swollen belly.

"But..but…don't you wanna be like us anymore?" I burst. I can barely get it out. My life is crumbling. My mom isn't my mom anymore. My dad isn't my dad anymore. Am I next? Before my tears rush past the dam behind my eyes, my dad walks into the room, obviously tired.

"Caity…I know there's no excuse for what happened last night-" my dad starts, but my mom cuts him off.

"You know Nate, I don't even fucking KNOW what happened last night," my mom says yells.

"I'm telling you, Dana and I just went out to drinks to celebrate, because we finished the chorus we had so much trouble fixing," my dad explains, looking very Taylor Swift desperate.

"And somehow you ended up totally wasted, was an hour late for dinner, and completely forgot about your family?" my mom interrogates. Wow, my mom is scaryyyy!

"It's just been a really stressful week. We couldn't get this one part of the song right. The notes just didn't sound good," my dad starts again, but my mom bursts into tears, then sobs, then wails. From yelling to crying? I think my mom has cried a river in the past few weeks. My dad tries to approach her, but she pushes him away. I run away because I can't watch this anymore. I pull out my iPhone and dial a familiar number.

"Hello?" Aunt Mitchie greets.

"Aunt Mitchie, please come over right now," I ask.

"Why?" she asks back. Jeez woman, don't you see how desperate I am?

"Mom and dad are going crazy, bring Uncle Shane too," I explain.

"What?!?" she yells into the phone.

"I think your petulant relationship with Uncle Shane can be put on hold while my parents screaming then crying at each other," I say matter-of-factly. Silence comes from the other end of the phone. Ha. I won.

"I'll be there in twenty," Aunt Mitchie sighs exasperated.

Oh. My. God. How did I ever end up here? Please God, let me leave. I'll give up Honey Nut Cheerios for a year. No, forever. I am sitting in a recliner in the corner of my living room, while my aunt and uncle yell at my hostile parents.

"Nate, I don't think you realize how fucking huge this is. This is insane. You guys are the golden couple. Why are you fucking ruin it?" Uncle Shane yells angrily, in an attempt to be scary. It's not working.

"Shane, I'm only doing what I have to for my family and you have no right to tell me about supporting a family," my dad grumbles.

"Family huh? When was the last time you got laid? I'm guessing a while just looking at what Caitlyn's wearing," Uncle Shane snaps. My mom shoots him an angry look. Aunt Mitchie looks amused.

"If you haven't noticed Shane, Caitlyn's very pregnant..." my dad says. Oh yeah, that.

"Still, my fucking ex-wife called me and dragged me over here! That's once in a light year!" Uncle Shane yells back. Okay, now that was scary. My mom has stopped crying and instead is just staring straight ahead in her own armchair.

"Fine, fine. I don't see why she's overreacting. Honey, are you jealous of Dana?" my dad asks kindly. Oh no he didn't. Everyone take cover now.

"What the fuck are you talking about? To be jealous means I want to be her and I don't ever want to put up with you when you act like this!" my mom yells enraged.

"Maybe he thinks that you think Dana is the other woman?" Aunt Mitchie whispers.

"No you know what the other woman is, Mitchie? It's the fucking business. I've lost him to Hollywood once, and I'm not gonna let it happen again!" my mom yells.

"Wanna tell me what you mean by that?" my dad asks belligerently.

"You are fucking consumed by your work, 24/7 like you use to. You promised me you would never go back, but you did without even consulting other options. While your wife and child sit at home, you party the night away. What if someone caught a picture? Our lives would be a living hell! God damnit Nate, can't you see you're turning into who you used to be!?!?" my mom cries and Aunt Mitchie runs over to consult her.

"You know I love you Caitlyn, it's just been really stressful," my dad explains.

"Oh yeah, why don't you tell them what you and Dana were celebrating?" my mom taunts. Uncle Shane looks intrigued.

"We just couldn't get the chorus to sound right. The notes just weren't working, and we fixed it after 2 days," my dad explains.

"Now, Sherlock Holmes, wanna tell me what I did for a living before I abandoned it?" my mom yells. Wow scary.

"A music producer," my dad whispers and shrinks into his seat. It's obvious he's figured it out.

"Why didn't you just fucking ask me? You would've had it done in a few minutes. But no, you wanna spend more time at the office because you don't live there already!" my mom yells back. My dad looks more and more scared by the minute.

"Well excuse me for not wanting to mix business with pleasure!" my dad retorts. Ah, looks like he got his balls back.

"The second you refer to music as business is the second I know you're not who you used to be!" my mom yells with a final triumph. She gets up and stomps upstairs.

"Wow. This is worse than you and I," Aunt Mitchie whispers as she gestures to Uncle Shane. They both chuckle even though it's no laughing matter. At least some people are getting along, even if it's my crazy divorced bitter aunt and uncle.


	12. Chapter 12

"This just in. Are Caitlyn and Nate Black going through a rough patch? Guess the honeymoon's over darlings. Caitlyn and Nate Black were overheard yelling in a heated argument by a neighbor, who reported the noise violation. We have proof that this complaint was filed, so this is no false rumor. Could this really be the end for the golden couple? And what about their teenage daughter Bell and their unborn child? Stay tuned," the cocky news anchors tells the world, as he holds a huge grin on his face. I flip off the TV. I wonder which heated argument was reported. There's been enough to turn a person deaf.

I want to believe my aunt Mitchie that everything will end up all right, but the tabloids seem to be righter and righter with each speculated story. This is serious shit here. My parents' marriage could be over. This could be it. Poor baby Aria could grow up between bachelor pads. My dancing career could be over before it starts because no one wants to hire an emotionally damaged teenager. My parents could turn into the next Shane and Mitchie, post break up. No one sees how big this is except me.

"Aunt Mitchie, why isn't anyone freaking out? This is serious. Mom and dad are yelling then crying, well mainly mom," I ask for the tenth time, but for the tenth time, I don't get a reply from her.

"Because it's Nate and Caitlyn," Uncle Shane interjects.

"I know! So this is huge. I mean they never fight!" I interject back.

"Oh Bell, you have no idea…"Aunt Mitchie replies. What does she mean by that?

"God Mitchie, look what you've done. Bell's already under so much stress and now you've just added the temptation of that other story!" Uncle Shane barks.

"Well sorry, Shane. I wasn't aware everyone was as nosy as you. And since when do you tell me what to do?" Aunt Mitchie snaps back.

"Guys! Keep it under control!" I yell. They mumble a few bitter apologies. "Soooo what do you mean by that, Aunt Mitchie?" I ask nonchalantly.

"See!?!" Uncle Shane yells.

"Fat chance I'm telling you Bell. You already have so much going on, you don't need this burden. Have you thought about seeing a psychiatrist?" Aunt Mitchie asks kindly. What the hell? I'm not some troubled girl with mommy daddy issues. Paging Dr. Grey!?!

"What? I'm perfectly fine!" I yell.

"For now. Then something else will happen. And another thing will happen. It's okay to break down, you know. You don't have to be strong. You're parents can figure it out themselves," Uncle Shane says. Wow, who knew he could be so deep?

"Well, they have enough on their minds. I don't want to bother them," I snap.

"That's the thing. If you talked to a doctor, maybe he could just be there and listen, since they're not. He doesn't have to heal you, per se. He can just listen. Like my shrink, his name is Dr. Rubenstein," Aunt Mitchie says.

"That loser? Don't go to him Bell. He's a total dipshit. Look how you aunt turned out," Uncle Shane cracks.

"What the hell is your problem Shane? Are you still pissed about that? That I liked him better than you?" Aunt Mitchie interrogates warningly. Oh ho! What is this new piece of information? Does it have to do with why they broke up? I've been waiting quite a long time for this…

"Explanation please? Does this have anything to do with why you guys can't be in the same room with each other for more than a few hours?" I ask matter-of-factly.

"No. Yes. I mean, just no," Uncle Shane sputters.

"Please just tell me. It'll keep my mind off of my parents. And I could just Google it. Wouldn't you rather me hear it from you than Perez Hilton?" I threaten. I see my aunt's face soften.

"Fine. Okay so once upon a time, there was a hotshot popstar who was a total douche," Aunt Mitchie starts, but earns a swat from Uncle Shane.

"Rockstar!" he yells, mockingly offended.

"Sure. Rockstar. So this rockstar gets sent to a camp by his band mates, the very workaholic…Nathan…and the insane in the membrane…Jake…because the rockstar has turned into a rude drama queen," Aunt Mitchie continues with a smile. Her attempt to be discrete is pathetic.

"Then the rockstar meets a small town girl, who loves music and sees the good in the rockstar. But this small town girl isn't who she really claims she is." Uncle Shane takes over with a nostalgic look on his face. Huh?

"But at the same time, he hears a mystery girl singing in the mess hall and he goes on a hunt to find this girl," Aunt Mitchie interrupts.

"Little does he know that the small town girl is the mystery girl. And over time, the small town girl heals the rockstar back to his nice, polite ways," Uncle Shane says.

"Until one day, the small town girl decides to just fuck everything up. She got too consumed with her lies, and the rockstar found out. The rockstar realized the one REAL thing in his life that he could count on was also, fake. Both the rockstar and the small town girl were devastated," Aunt Mitchie says.

"So Final Jam comes along, and the small town girl is convinced to sing, now that no one likes her. And when the rockstar hears her voice, he knows he has found his girl. And from that day on, their relationship went nowhere but forward. The end," Uncle Shane finishes with a smile on his face, and tears in Aunt Mitchie's eyes.

"Aw that was so sweet, your love story," I say genuinely. How did that perfect Cinderella story turn into this train wreck?

"Yeah. Believe it or not, we used to be like your parents, back in the day," Uncle Shane says, reminiscing.

"Which part? The yelling and fighting or the lovey dovey?" I ask.

"Both," Aunt Mitchie interrupts, wiping at her eyes. "You know you haven't heard the whole story. I think it's time you really know what goes on after the happy ending. In case, um, things don't work out with your parents." Uncle Shane just nods. I nod too, but feel my heart clench inside.

"So the rockstar and the small town girl get married and are happier than ever. But every once in a while, the rockstar would get a distracted look in his eye. Until one day…one day…" Aunt Mitchie trails off.

"One day, the small town girl finds out a secret the rockstar had been keeping from her for a few months. Turns out, the rockstar had a secret love child from his crazy days he didn't know about. The small town girl had discovered the reason behind the rockstar's distance from her. He wasn't ignoring her, but trying to find out what happened to that child," Uncle Shane finishes. Wow.

"The small town girl was furious. She didn't know why the rockstar wouldn't tell her. She wasn't mad that he had a child, but mad that he didn't tell her. She could've helped him look. But once again, she fucks up. Instead of talking, she just shuts herself off. She hires a psychiatrist, who helps her with her self confidence. The psychiatrist encourages her to leave the rockstar, because a relationship can't be based on secrets," Aunt Mitchie says.

"So the small town girl just leaves. The rockstar found out that the child had been born a stillborn and he regretted not saying something to the small town girl. And the Cinderella story ended up a tragedy," Uncle Shane ends in a sad voice. I'm in tears.

"Wow. Oh my god. Really,you guys?" I croak. That is so sad.

"Yeah, but that's not the saddest part. It's that the rockstar and the small town girl still love each other, but won't admit it," Uncle Shane says, looking Aunt Mitchie in the eye, who tries to avoid his glance.

"We can't run anymore, Mitch," he whispers.

"No, stop it Shane," she says sternly and wipes her tears and her smudged mascara.

Oh. My. God. Who would have thought that things like that happened in real life? This is just like a soap opera. Is this what's gonna happen to my parents? Are they going to be lovers ripped apart by irrelevant things? Am I going to have to explain something like this to Aria one day, in tears? Will I be strong enough to by then or will I crumble into pieces like Aunt Mitchie?


	13. Chapter 13

I sat snuggled into my dad's side, aimlessly strumming his favorite guitar.

"Daddddd! I suck at this!" I complained. His failing attempt to teach my guitar really isn't working.

"You see Bell, that's the beauty of the guitar. It still sounds good even when you suc, not like the violin or the trumpet," he says wisely.

"I suppose," I say grimly. The truth is, I don't give a rat's ass if I learn guitar. In fact, I hate the guitar. It's like a lame banjo. It's just that precious time with my diminishing father is far more valuable than playing my favorite instrument. Anything goes these days, as in any time I spend with my father, even if it's trying to learn the guitar. My mom is probably wandering the house again, another one of her "poor girl, victim" tactics. I know she can't help it, but I'm getting really sick of this shit, on both my mom and dad's sides. I wish they would just fix it already. But before my dad can explain to me what a measure is yet again (Yes, I am fully aware of the shame this sentence implies), Aunt Mitchie storms into the living room with a fierce look on her face.

"Nathaniel Black. Get off your lazy ass and come with me!" she yells determinedly.

"I'm not being lazy, I'm spending quality time with my daughter teaching her to play my favorite instrument...," he says in his defense.

"Yeah, cause Bell looks like she's having the time of her life," she retorts. Oops, caught red handed "Besides, a girl as pretty as her should be out turning boys' heads. Nate, come on, we have to talk about you situation! ASAP!"

"Can I come?" I ask perkily, with my best puppy dog face on. Before my dad can stick an excuse in, I mention "I could turn heads at the same time!". Excuses are like armpits, everyone has them, and the usually stink. Witty comments however, suffice quite well.

"If you want, but I don't think you would, considering the topic," Aunt Mitchie warns. Psh, whatever. I shrug. Aunt Mitchie drags my dad off the couch and picks up her sunglasses off the coffee table. I am already ahead of her, waiting patiently at the front door. We walk down a familiar street, but something feels off. Instead of my mom on my left, it's Aunt Mitchie. I swing open the door to Baskin Robbins and inhale the familiar smell of sugar. God, we haven't been here in so long. I finger the smooth railing and absorb the florescent lighting, wondering if it's the last time I'll be here with my dad. Even the ice cream boy looks about five inches taller and five times more pimply.

"Bell get yourself something to eat," Aunt Mitchie suggests, shoving a good old Abraham Lincoln in my hand while motioning to my dad to sit down. It was more a command than a suggestion. I know better than to challenge it. I mean, who can deny free ice cream?

"The usual?" the ice cream boy asks. I'm surprised he remembers. I stop and think for a while.

"Nah. I think I'll try something new," I say, shocking both the ice cream boy and myself. Well, I am a new person these days and the new me needs a new ice cream flavor. I survey the bright colors under the plastic screens, and catch my reflection. On the outside I look the same. Only a small fraction of my new self exists in my eyes. On the inside, I'm a girl forced to grow up fast. I used to care about the strength of my dances. The new me cares about whether the strength of my family can keep it alive.

"You know what? I'll just have a kiwi smoothie," I say, unable to decide between ice cream flavors. More like, unable to decide between my two aliases. The ice cream boy just nods his head and soon after hands me my ridiculously green concoction. I take a seat on the pink chair.

"Here's the deal Nate. I love Caitlyn. She's my best friend which is why I'm doing this. And you love her too right?" Aunt Mitchie says plainly.

"Of course I do. I'd do anything for her," my dad replies calmly.

"Then stop this. Fix it. Bring the old Caitlyn back," she begs. I just sit there and suck in some smoothie.

"I wish I knew how. I mean, the record deal is over in a week," he says. Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Everything will end up hunky dory.

"That's not good enough. Caitlyn thinks work has sucked you in and left too big of a lasting impact on your priorities. She's scared Nate, and frankly, I agree. You know how much you love work," she explains.

"Not as much as I love her," my dad argues.

"Yeah, well just dont let it end like last time," she snaps. Wait a second, last time!?! " You know Nate, I'll be straight with you because you're a straight forward person. If you're honestly and geniunely going to give up work for Caitlyn, then fight for what you have. But I don't think you can fully do that which is why you need to stop lying to yourself and to Caitlyn. If you can't resist it, which I will not judge you for and neither will she, then just stop it. Give up. End it with Caitlyn. Don't lead her on, and let her move on." WHAT!? I can't believe what I'm hearing. Aunt Mitchie hasn't given up on us, she can't! I almost choke on my kiwi smoothie.

"I couldn't. You're asking me to throw away two decades of devotion and love?," my dad whispers. I just keep sucking.

"Nate, it takes courage to fight for love, but even more to quit. People will criticize you for picking work over your wife, but they will criticize you more if you deny it," Aunt Mitchie says truthfully. Kiwi smoothie almost gone.

"Then I'm a coward. I won't lose Caitlyn, I won't let it end like last time," he says, very heroically. Yay!

"Fine, but remember, I'm only telling you this out of friendship and love," Aunt Mitchie says as she gets up and leaves.

"Let's go, Bell, and find mommy," my dad says and dumps my empty cup into a solar powered trash receptacle. Okayyyy. Thanks for asking. We walk back home in utter silence, the sway of the palm trees the only sound in the air.

I open the door and let my dad walk into the Fame room, where my mom is staring at an enlarged cover of People. "Naitlyn: Through the years" is sprawled across the cover. They did that edition for my parent's tenth anniversary.

"Hey Caity," my dad says.

"Hey," my mom replies lifelessly.

"We need to talk," he says outright. Crap. All bad conversations start with those four words. He's gonna follow Aunt Mitchie's advice. He's gonna divorce mom. He's gonna leave me. He's gonna leave us.

"Yes. Yes we do," my mom agrees, stroking her belly. She seems to be doing that a lot.

"Bell, give mommy and me some privacy," my dad instructs. I don't bother to reply. I just walk out and pick up my dad's favorite guitar. I strum a few chords. Hmm, I finally see what all the rage is with guitars. They tend to help pass the time away, and let you forget all your greatest fears.


	14. Chapter 14

I'm pacing the living room, back and forth, like nervous fathers outside a delivery room. I'm pretty sure I've carved out a couple bazillion fibers in my mom's nice rug. Then suddenly, the door to the fame room swings open, and out come my parents. They don't look too different. In fact, they look exactly the same, but instead of sad, lost looks, there's serious "I mean business" looks.

"Bell, sit down," my mom says softly. I plop down on the plush chair across from my parents' loveseat, where they are sitting, in a very Jon and Kate plus 8 fashion. Yeah, I'm old school. There's no good reality television around these days, so I watch old box sets my mom had when she was a teenager. Besides, one of the twins even babysat me when I was little.

"We know these few weeks have been hard on you, because they've been hard on us," my dad started. My mom just looked ahead, trying to be supportive. I just nod because it's true. I feel like I'm being suffocated by my own family.

"You can probably tell Daddy and I are having issues. Daddy's workaholic tendencies have always been a strain in our relationship, from day one," my mom said. Hmm, I've never known that. Maybe I'll ask Grandmarie or Aunt Mitchie about that.

"And it doesn't help when your mom completely shuts herself off from the world," my dad adds. My mom sends him a snarky look, but it's all in good fun.

"Daddy and I can fix this, if we try really hard, to go back to the way things were, but it'll take a lot out of all three of us," my mom chirps. What does she mean by that?

"Mommy and I are scared that if we try to mend our relationship, we'll make it worse. We don't want your dancing, social life, life potential, or any part of you- and baby Aria- to suffer, just so your mom and I can have a shot at this," my dad continues. Okay, I really don't like the sound of this. You guys have already had your shot! And you made it! So what the hell is the problem now? Plus, my dancing hasn't suffered. I mean, the last time I danced was…okay, point taken.

"So it's up to you. Daddy and I could end this right now, and give up, so you guys don't have to be put through the wringer. Or, we can try and work it out, but who knows how long it'll take? We just want you to know the options, because we'd never choose without consulting you first. You're our first priority, not each other," my mom says. You know, for this not really loving each other right now thing, my parents seem very cooperative and still carry a united front.

"That last part is BS," I snip playfully, in an attempt to lighten the mood and get my parents to stop these shenanigans. You have no idea how many PDAs or "I love yous" I've heard in my life between my parents. It's a miracle I've been an only child for fifteen years. I only get a light chuckle from my mom. They can't just end it like this.

"What do you think, honey? About the whole shebang?" my mom continues, prodding me for a response I don't have.

"How would this…healing…process go about?" I am at a loss for words, because all I want is for things to go back to normal, without any hard work from me. What I really want to do is just scream and ignore things until everything is hunky dory. I really dislike any kind of pressure.

"Mommy and I are thinking about going on this couples cruise the View suggested. It's only a week and maybe you could stay with Aunt Mitchie or Uncle Shane," my dad says. Oh, that doesn't sound too bad. In fact, it kinda sounds fun, on both ends. Maybe a little alone time is all my parents need to rekindle the spark.

"What about your job?" I spew. Wow, smooth Bell. That's the last thing to be worried about when your parents are contemplating divorce without saying the d-word. My parents crack smiles.

"That's the last thing to be worried about right now, and the duet is done. I'm back to the community center forever," my dad explains and my mom gives him a lovey glance. Aha! Step one complete.

"Okay," I blurt, appalling myself and my parents.

"Okay what?" my mom asks, her eyes popping with anticipation. I can tell my mom really wants to try and make it work with my dad, but my dad just looks lost with no idea how to fix things. God mom! Step up to the plate! And dad, fucking get yourself together!

"Okay, go fix this, whatever it takes. Have fun on your cruise. Bring me back a shot glass," I say and I get up to watch old dancing tapes.

"That's it?" I overhear my dad asking my mom.

"Wow, I thought that was going to be harder," my mom replies.

"Well, wanna go out to celebrate?" my dad asks.

"Celebrate what? Our marriage not completely dying?" my mom snaps wittily. That's the Caity my dad loves, and it shows cause he plants a semi-awkward kiss on her forehead.

"Come on, we can go eat at Fanta Chinese," my dad pleads. Wow, he must be incredibly desperate to suggest that place they call a restaurant. It's a fast food joint on in El Monte. I will admit, the food is decent, but it's horrifically unhealthy and it's not in the safest part of L.A. For god's sake, it's across the street from a CVS and a motel. And my dad NEVER wants to go there, because he's a safety and health nut. He can't even down his chow mein without counting the calories in his head.

"Really? You'd sacrifice that for me?" my mom asks in wonder and looks deeply into my dad's eyes.

"Sure. Sacrifice is what we're about, Caity," my dad responds genuinely. My mom responds by planting a big wet one on my dad, out of nowhere. Ickkk. I think I'm gonna look away now. It's gross, but I'm kinda happy things are on their way to going back to normal.

"What was that for?" my dad asks in surprise.

"For making your wife, and your always hungry daughter, very happy," my mom says with a cheeky smile.

"All with Chinese food?" my dad asks, still in shock.

"Nope, something more," my mom replies cryptically, and wanders away.


	15. Chapter 15

"Ah, this is the life!" I declared as Aunt Mitchie and I sat in a posh spa, getting pedicures while drinking delicious smoothies. Hanging out with Aunt Mitchie has always been fun. She's the cool aunt. She claims to know all the dances to High School Musical, as if I know what that is. As "cool" and "hip" as Aunt Mitchie is, she still kind of thinks its 2010. She's always ranting about Brangelina or the Spice Girls, heaven forbid.

"I know! Your parents should go on more couples cruises! Then we'd look super fab all year long!" Aunt Mitchie exclaims, a little bit too excited. I cringe, slightly embarassed. Sometimes, Aunt Mitchie needs to realize she's 36, not 16. But Aunt Mitchie has aged gracefully. She's only gone to the plastic surgeon's ONCE, to get Botox infected into her forehead. Caused by stress during the divorce. She claimed she needed all of shane Gray's marks to be removed.

"Yeah," I mumble feebly. I wonder what my parents are doing. They've been on that cruise in the Caribbean for two days now, 4 days left. Not that I don't enjoy Aunt Mitchie's company, it's that she's rather overwhelming. She really needs a hobby, or a boyfriend.

"What's wrong Bell? Missing your parents?" Aunt Mitchie inquires, carefully inspecting the metallic shade of gold Svetlana is stroking onto her toenails.

"Yeah. Do you think they'll be okay?" I ask, honestly. Baby Aria will be here in two months, and I really don't want her to grow up in a hostile environment, or worse, in the foster care system. I shudder in my mind just thinking about it.

"Sure. They are the Naitlyn, honey. And they'll get through this like they did before," Aunt Mitchie blurts, but then suddenly covers her mouth and muffles her "CRAP". Aho! My eyebrows peak. What is this new bit of information I've just been told of?

"Care to elaborate on the 'like they did before'?" I ask, hoping Aunt Mitchie will cave, since she's already started. She's like that. Might as well say the whole thing, now that she's started!

"Absolutely not, Bell Marie Black. I've already said too much, no thanks to your little drunken shebang last time," Aunt Mitchie continues. Oh, yeah, that...But at least I know it's related to Dana Dana now.

"Fine. I'll ask Uncle Shane, and tell him YOU told me," I retort, using my best Blair-Waldorf voice, whatever that is. Aunt Mitchie says I sound like her when I make snippy comments. Aunt Mitchie gasps. She hates all interaction with Uncle Shane, if you haven't noticed.

"You wouldn't dare," she glares, scaring Svetlana out of her skin.

"Uh huh. I have my ways of information. Besides, I know what Google is," I reply, playfully.

"First of all Bell, you're not allowed to Google your parents because of all those horrendous lies. And secondly, I am treating you to a $40 pedicure, so it's the least you could do," Aunt Mitchie counters.

"Well it's not like you'd tell, in case you might worry the fragile parental units," I counter back. Oh yeah, I know how to negotiate. Look at me, I'm a hotshot Donald Trump. All I need is a bad combover.

"It's not like they'd answer in the desolate Caribbean. They probably can't keep their hands off each other, especially now that your mom has hugemoungous boobies," Aunt Mitchie replies. Oh, touche. Aunt Mitchie can be my accomplice when I make it big on Wall Street. It's no surprise to anyone that my parents are a bit of the touchy-feely people.

"Fine. I'll drop it, for now," I say, defeated.

"Good," Aunt Mitchie replies, feeling accomplished. But we both know that one way or another, I'll find out. Aunt Mitchie just doesn't want to be the one caught telling me. Natasha finishes the last coat of emerald green on my toes, and we walk out of the spa. Aunt Mitchie needs to bring me to Uncle Shane's. As if my parents would trust Aunt Mitchie with me for a whole week. She's my partner in crime. I feel like a child of divorcees, being neutrally handed over to the other party.

"Hey girls," Uncle Shane greets outside his apartment door. He lives in a bachelor pad, to say the least. Everything is sleek, silver, and there's probably some traces of Ed Hardy. Why are all divorcees so douchy?

"Shane," Aunt Mitchie acknowledges curtly with a nod. I wave and drop my stuff on his leather couch, and leave them to discuss the logistics of my stay, and maybe more?

I look around the pad, at the sleek kitchen appliances that pretty much cook all of his foods for him, and the high tech technology that glistens clean from the housekeeper. It looks like a robot lives here, because there's no essense, no soul, no warmth. I can slightly remember the autumn colors, fresh flowers, and potpourri that used to lie around Aunt Mitchie and Uncle Shane's house, when they were together. It's like he stripped clean everything that was homey and cozy in here. As for Aunt Mitchie, she checked into the penthouse suite of a hotel and never checked out. Divorcing a former rock star does have it's alimony perks.

"Wow. It's so futuristic," I gasp in awe. I've never been in here. Uncle Shane just smiles.

"I know. I based it off a sketch I made when I was your age," he smiles. Wow. Who knew Uncle Shane was such an architect? Am I gonna look back at this when I'm old as my golden years?

"So, whatcha been up to Bell Bell?" he starts, trying to break the semi awkward ice.

"Not much, snooping around. So wanna tell me whatcha know about Dana Dana and the incident Aunt Mitchie won't tell me about?" I ask, straight to the point.

"Wow. You don't beat around the bush," he says. Yup. Just like mom.

"Um, it's not my place to tell," he replies, unsure if he should tell.

"Uncle Shane, it's gonna be an awkward 4 days unless you do," I offer. He knows it's true.

"Fine, sit your dancing ass down," he caves. Score! Bell saves the day again.

"Yes!" I exclaim and do my happy dance.

"Okay so it all started when your parents were 18..." he starts.


	16. Chapter 16

"So yeah. They were 18. Uhm...," Uncle Shane drifts off. Is he puposely trying to kill me, or is he such a dipshit he can't remember anything?

"Yeah. I got that part. Let's get a move on, loser!" I encourage. I'm on the edge of his nice leather chair, probably causing some irreversible damage to it, since my nails are digging into it.

"Your mom was at school, getting her degree in whatever-" he continues. Wow, he really didn't remember anything.

"Music theory," I butt in. Apparently, back in the day, they had classes like that. "Yeah. And your dad was on tour with us in Canada. It'd probably been like that for 2 months. Of course, your parents made visits and time for each other, but they were both on edge. You know how they get when they're separated," he says. Yeah, actually, I do, since the house has been divided for like weeks.

"Until one day, your mom just couldn't take it. The pressure of college, making time for her jetsetting boyfriend. Your dad was turning into a work robot, to keep his mind off your mom. All he talked about was PR, or new songs, stuff like that. Uhm, and your mom hated that," he continues. Duh. I hate it when that happens.

"So your mom proposed they take a 'break', because it obviously wasn't sailing smooth. It was just like Ross and Rachel," he says. Wait what? Who are Ross and Rachel? And didn't Aunt Mitchie say the exact same thing?

"Huh. That's how Aunt Mitchie said it, who are they?" I inquire. Actually, that might take forever, based on how slow he's telling THIS story, "On second thought, I don't give two shits. Carry on."

"So your dad like slumped into an almost depresssion for a month or so. Is there a word for that? Recession! Wait, never mind," he says. Oh god, this is like talking to a brick wall, but I can't afford to skip this crucial story.

"Your mom just focused on her schoolwork. Until one day, I got a screaming phone call from the devil herself, your Aunt Mitchie," he says. Why would she be calling her?

"Oh you guys were together back then?" I ask. I already know the answer, but I still want to hear him say it. I'm so good at being subtlely evil.

"Yeah. Pretty into it too," he says with an undistinguishable look on his face, "So Mitchie is yelling at me through the phone, expecting me to relay the message she was relaying, to your dad." My parents were such cowards, making their friends talk to each other.

"Your mom had seen a news special, where your dad was out with an up and coming rock pianist, Dana Dana, who was a total skank. They were partying at Katsuya, which was a total mistake, cause who the hell goes there when you wanna be secretive?" he says. This might just take forever, if he keeps trailing off like that.

"She was so spitting mad, she was furious. She expected your dad to stay single and lie low during the break, so she ignored him for a month," he says with a chuckle.

"So? Weren't they on a break anyway?" I ask. Uncle Shane officially sucks at telling stories. Although I already heard the cliff notes version of this from Aunt Mitchie, the least he could put his own spin on it.

"Yeah, but they still talked. Your dad was addicted to your mom. He couldn't stay away. If he couldn't be with her, he would still call her to make small talk to 'hear her voice', as he said," Uncle Shane prolongs. I just nod.

"And your dad, man, it was so god damned hilarious. I know it wasn't funny to him, but then he started FREAKING out. He had no idea what he was doing wrong, and he was going out of his mind. He'd call your mom 24/7. It was like stalker syndrome, and of course, your mom just ignored him," he says. I laugh out loud at this, it must have been such a sight.

"Until one day, Mitchie couldn't take it anymore and shoved them into an awkward situation. You guys are miserable without each other, blah blah blah, Nate apologize and grow some balls, Caitlyn get over it. That kinda shebang," he says. Ahahahah! Good old Aunt Mitchie, my partner in crime. The Chuck to my Blair, according to her, whatever that means. It's one of her old fashioned analogies no one really understands.

"Did it work?" I ask eagerly. Finally, the story is getting interesting.

"Well, it was a lot of screaming from your mom, and a lot of nodding from your dad, and a bunch of those threats I'm sure Mitchie already told you about," he says. I nod.

"Your mom always wore the pants in the relationship, well when you wanna get technical, she never did," he says cheekily.

"Ew! Stop these shenanigans!" I exclaim. I really need to stop using my parents' out of date lingo.

"Right, you're seventeen…not to mention their kid," he says, stroking his nonexistent Confucian beard.

"Fifteen," I correct. Geez, I'm your goddaughter!

"Right, so they get back together, happily ever after, got married, got knocked up, you know the rest," he rambles, "The point is, this has happened before, and it was fixed before, so don't sweat it kid." Right, the second I figure out how to "not sweat it," I'll let you know, since you're just at the great point in your life!

"Now, I got a place to be, so get up. I'm dumping you at Jason's," he says getting up. Don't get me wrong, I love him, and although he has a funny way of showing it, I know he loves me. There's a weird mutual understanding and respect between Uncle Shane and I.

"Where? Hot date?" I ask. Uncle Shane hasn't had a real relationship since Aunt Mitchie. And Aunt Mitchie, let's just say she's a half drunk cougar with various flings.

"Actually, yes," he says, shocking me. I wasn't being serious, but I guess he is. Why is everything changing around here?!?!

**REVIEW! And thanks to pink lemonade 89, who gave me the best review I have ever SEEN. REVIEW or else. It'll make me more motivated to update. Sorry for the delay for this one, but then again, practically no one REVIEWED!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Here's an update. Sorry it took so long, but high school is kicking my ass. Check out my two new one shots though!**

Nudge. "Two," whispers Uncle Shane.

"Three," I counter. Nudge back. We're standing in the overly air conditioned waiting areas at LAX, to pick my parents up from their couples cruise. Uncle Shane and I are guessing how many martinis Aunt Mitchie had at the bar this morning. From the looks of it, I'd say 3 or 4. She's pretty crazy. The Crocs store clerk has already shot her a couple of cranky looks. She's got huge Prada sunglasses over her probably bloodshot eyes and she's prancing around, talking about how excited she is.

"Bell! Isn't this exciting? Your mommy and daddy are back from their exotic rendezvous!" she exclaims. I don't really consider it a rendezvous. It's more of a couples therapy cruise that happens to be in the Caribbean. Other than that, I see no similarities. I'm pushing the martini count up.

"Four, at least," I whisper to Uncle Shane, who only chuckles.

"What? Did you say something Bell? No need to be shy around me. You know what I say, being shy is just so prudent," she exclaims. Yeah, I noticed.

"No. Uhm, Aunt Mitchie…are you okay? Are you drunk, or high maybe?" I ask. She's acting a bit too out there today, at 10 in the morning.

"What are you talking about Bell, I'm perfectly fine! I'm just so happy about everything!" she yells and with that she whips off her cheetah print scarf and sunglasses, to reveal a makeup, bag, bloodshot free face. What the fuck is going on? You know what I don't even want to know. Oh look, here comes my parents.

Oh my god.

They're so tan. And pregnant. And wearing Hawaiian shirts. Kill me now.

"Hey guys. How was the cruise?" Uncle Shane asks, like a normal person, taking my mom's suitcase.

"Who cares? How's the baby? You're getting ready to pop any second now, missy! Think of any names?" Aunt Mitchie blurts.

"We already have a name. Bell thought of it. But it's a secret for now," my dad says cryptically with a smile. I smile, thinking of Aria.

"Oh god, it's not one of those New Age names is it? Those are just ridiculous!" Aunt Mitchie says with a straight face. Uncle Shane and I almost fall over in laughter. Aunt Mitchie…hating New Age crap…Give me a second, I'm laughing my ass off. Aunt Mitchie is the face of New Age. She's tried every wacky trend, goes to a psychic, and has had a foot massage given by angelfish.

"No, it's beautiful, now if you don't mind. This pregnant woman wants to go home!" my mom yells impatiently.

"Right, right Caity. Come on, Bell," my dad gestures caringly. We make out way over the parking garage. Wait a second, why is Aunt Mitchie getting into Uncle Shane's car? Did she randomly just come with a hitchhiker? Nah. Oh, I got it. Uncle Shane is worried for her well-being, since she is being a little bit weird today…Aunt Mitchie is in no state to drive.

"What's wrong with Mitchie?" my mom asks once we're in the safety of our own car.

"No idea, she's being really weird," I respond.

"How was your week honey?" my dad asks. He's been really questiony today.

"Fine. Aunt Mitchie bought be shitloads of stuff. How was yours?" I ask under my dad's critical and my mom's humorous eye.

"Great! Oprah was there!" my mom yells!

"She took like twenty pictures," my dad adds. Isn't Oprah like a bazillion years old?

"What else did you guys do other than scare a 70 year old woman?" I ask.

"Jacuzzi, swam with dolphins, did some therapy trust sessions, you know the usual," my mom blabs.

"Are you even supposed to be doing half those things?" I ask and glance at her very swollen stomach.

"Don't worry. I was very protective of my babies," my dad assures.

"Daddy is all protective and caring and inquisitive now. He actually pays attention. That batty old shrink told him he needs to be more open," my mom says in disapproval. Well, they're not fighting anymore, so I'd say that shrink is pretty damn good.

"What'd you learn?" I ask.

"Mommy learned that she needs to be less cryptic and talk about her feelings and emotions!" my dad says way to enthusiastically.

"I can talk about my emotions when I get a hold of them, no thanks to your unborn daughter!" my mom snaps. Haha. That was a good one.

"So how's dancing?" my dad asks, changing the subject.

"Fine. Just fine," I say. I'd rather not talk about my diminishing dance skills.

"What'd you do? Or not do?" my mom inquires.

"Uhm…practice?" I squeak, ready for what's to come.

"What?!? You know dancing is your life, Bell! Why do you think we're so lenient with your grades? It's cause dancing is all you do and all you wanna do for the rest of your life. You're a performer honey, and once you start, you can't go back and change your mind. That's why it's super important to practice, got it?" my mom yells.

"Fineeee. I'll be good again by the time of the recital. You guys are definitely coming right?" I ask.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, baby," they say. Sure. Ah, home sweet home is approaching. I'm glad to be not eating fancy caviar (Aunt Mitchie) or takeout (Uncle Shane) or pureed string beans (Uncle Jason) anymore. Just home sweet home with my parents.

Ah, the good times. Let's hope there's more to come.

**Sorry it's so short, but I had to give you guys something! The faster you review, the faster updates come. I'm gonna tell you now, the next few chapters are JUICY. REVIEW**


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry its short but I had to give the one person who reviewed last chapter something. Sorry I haven't updated but to tell you the truth I don't really have a motivation anymore. As for the rest of you, get off your lazy asses and review! I don't think some of you *AHEM SILENT READERS* realize that I can see how many there are of you and compare to the amount of reviews. It's insulting really.**

My mom is reading that lame ass "What to Expect when You're Expecting" book again. It's been around like fifty years AND my mom should already know what to expect. I might have mentioned this before, but this obviously proves I'm not related to these people. So there.

"Hey Bell Bell, what's cracking?" my mom asks. I can't believe she just said that.

"Not much, off to practice…ick," I say scathingly. You know, I love dancing, but I hate going back to dancing. The shoes feel rigid, the intimate moves feel awkward, and the pain afterwords, oh my god. This is why people never stop dancing, because they don't want to start again.

"Uhm, your recital is in 10 hours…" my mom points out. Well duh, don't you think I know that?

"Yeah, I know. So I need all the time I can get," I say. Why is everyone freaking out? Dancers never forget to dance, per se. They just need to freshen up. It's not like my mind was wiped clean. My technique isn't shabby, I suppose. I just need a new routine…by 9 PM.

"God, you're just like mommy," my dad says as he walks while biting an apple.

"Except not!" I yell at the same time as my mom.

"Sure you are. You put things off until the last minute, not sweating about anything, but the end result never ceases to amaze. I frankly don't know how you do it," my dad comments. My dad is so analytical of every little detail. It's probably why his ONE duet with Dana Dana took three months. Seriously. Oh by the way, that releases today on MTV, at a mystery time. People have actually been up since the crack of dawn, religiously watching MTV for the song.

If you're thinking I've heard it, I haven't. In fact, there are songs of my dad's from a long time ago I've never heard. This new song, is super elite and hasn't even been leaked on to the internet. I know, right? Hard. Core. In fact, I have no idea what it's even called.

"Fine, but Bell is a much better dancer than I was a producer," my mom chimes in. Awww.

"You're only saying that cause you're my mother," I say, sticking out my lip.

"Nuh uh, I'm your mommmmmmy," my mom sings. Could she be any more immature? Hey, that rhymed! Ahahahah! Okay fine, I'm not much better.

"Whatever, I'm off or else Maksim is gonna kick my ass," I say and walk out the door in my killer 3 inch heels before the parental units can comment on my language. And when I say killer, I mean they're killing my feet.

Okay, I'm panting my ass off. I'm never skipping practice ever again.

"Oh my fucking god, Maks. What the hell did you choreograph? Wanna tune it down?" I ask.

"No, Bell, mi amore, you simply cannot turn down the paso doble!" Maksim exclaims. This is the thing about Eastern Europeans. They cannot stop. Ever.

"Well, why can't we do the waltz or something? Something where I don't have to be dragged around like a bull?" I suggest. This routine is harsh.

"Because the waltz is timid, and Bell Black is not timid! We are sexy, we are hot! We are passionate! And I haven't kicked your ass yet for skipping out on me for a month! " he exclaims again. He kinda reminds me of my grandmother…

"Fine!" I yell. You know you can't really turn down a compliment, especially now that my would-have-been boyfriend is ignoring me cause I ignored him. So I kick my legs back and start all over again.

And a 5, 6, 7, 8!

The stage lights are a lot brighter than I remember, and the judges' panel is a lot more intimidating. Not to mention the sequins on this new costume are REALLY itchy.

I look to my left, and my parents are sitting in the front row, in the corner. My dad has a semi grouchy look on my face, cause of my costume, yet again. My mom just looks pregnant and keeps stroking her Herve Leger covered belly. Aunt Mitchie and Uncle Shane are right behind them, Aunt Mitchie secretly wanting my costume and Uncle Shane looks amused but willingly holding the camcorder.

Wait a second, who's coming up the aisle. Holy crap! It's the devil herself, Dana Dana. What is she doing here? I send an agitated look to my mom, who responds with a pitiful shrug. She takes a seat next to Aunt Mitchie and they do that lame air kiss thing. You can tell she looks annoyed because she digs her face into Uncle Shane's shoulder. Yup, she's that desperate.

Then Dana Dana sees me stretching on the outskirts of the shiny floor. She waves frantically and mouths "The girls look great!" while pointing viciously to her own fake boobs. Sigh. It's wayyy to early to be that friendly with the woman who nearly lured my father back into showbiz, which nearly ended my parents' marriage. I mean it's not really her fault, but I'll just blame her until her next artificial hair color. This new roan brown is for Laura Ingalls Wilder, not Hollywood's hottest has been pianist.

Then the lights dim and everyone stops talking. The announced announces my name with Maksim's and I hear about ten thousand camera clicks go off. The music starts and I take my position on the middle of the dance floor. I start flapping my dress, and Maksim walks a little closer. From there, we dance and dance until the competitions already been beat. In fact, when we're doing one of our more racy moves, I think I hear my mother of all people suck in a deep breath.

Finally, we end with a lengthy and bendy pose that almost knocks my legs out. Oh godddd. And finish.

We stand up and take a bow. I look to my left and right, but my parents are nowhere to be seen. Aunt Mitchie is fumbling the camcorder in her lap, Uncle Shane is gone, and Dana Dana looks white as a sheet. Oh great, stuck with the two most stable divas in the world. Where the hell did my parents go?

**REVIEW IF YOU WANT A CHAPTER, AT ALL. xoxoemily.**


	19. Chapter 19

**SUPER SORRY READERS (faithful ones that review, that is ;-). JK, I love all my readers)! High school has just been too much fun and work. But I'm a sucker for the holidays, so here's a winter present for all of you. A blessed new year to all!**

Okay. Three reasons why my life as Bell Black, the daughter of mega-celebs Nate and Caitlyn Black, sucks: 1) Physically exerting your body in a full-on, hardcore dance after a month of slacking around leads to very painful injuries, which is the reason why my ankle is throbbing and hurts like a bitch, 2) After all that last minute practice, I still end up with second place, and the main reason why my life sucks? 3) Sitting in a cramped Lexus coupe with my crazy-loopy aunt Mitchie, who is driving and might be high, drunk, or both, and my dad's crazy ex-girlfriend Dana Dana whose only joy in life is being an attention whore and keeps waving out the door to her favorite paparazzis. God, do those guys ever sleep?

Anticipating the birth of my baby sister is pretty bad, but sitting in a small car with two crazy divas who hate each other is a close second. I should be thanking the lord for the awkward silence. Better nothing than a crazy screaming fight! Enough said.

"You looked really good out there Bell. Too bad you didn't get first place, you definitely deserved it," Aunt Mitchie says.

"Yeah, well not really. I shouldn't have slacked off for a month. At least, I got on the grid. Maybe talent scouts saw me and want to turn me professional," I reply.

"Well, you sure looked the part of a winner. That necklace you had on was sooo cute. And you sure kept the puppies up, that's for sure," Dana Dana replies all too perkily.

"Thanks. It's kind of a given for your boobs not to sag when you're not 40!" I mumble. I tuck the necklace inside my shirt and zip up my jacket.

"What?" Dana Dana plays dumb. She heard me. "Well, if you ever need me to call in a favor to pull some strings, let me know. I know the guys on So You Think You Can Dance. Nigel and I go wayyy back" Way to be a name-dropper.

"Thanks, but I prefer to make it on my own. Plus, SYTYCD is overrated," I snap back. Silence from Dana Dana.

"Anyhoo, your mommy is in labor, how exciting is that?" Aunt Mitchie coos.

"It'll be more exciting when she's done," I say.

"Yes, that's true. Oh god, I remember the day you were born. Your mom was in so much pain, but she refused meds and was a tough cookie the whole way through," Aunt Mitchie reminisces.

"Really? I imagine Caitlyn as the type of woman who takes the epidural and runs with it while cursing out her husband. Thank god they have that new technology now," Dana Dana comments. Wait a second, what the hell is she doing here anyways? It's not like she's getting a new sister…

"No, she kept it cool. She wanted to remember the pain forever, because she thought it was the only time she'd ever feel it," Aunt Mitchie replies.

"Oh, so this new child is an accident?" asks Dana Dana. Okay, this woman's total cluelessness is so fake it's possibly real.

"Well, I don't think anyone plans babies per se, Dana," replies Aunt Mitchie with a snarl. Oh there we go. The bitch is back.

"I'm sure you know all about unwanted babies, Mitchie," Dana Dana quips back with an edge. Oh no she didn't. There is going to be hell to pay, and I know this because the car swerves to the edge of the road. Easssssy there.

"Okay, Dana, I've tried to be nice and civil to you for Nathaniel's sake, but it's really not working. You're rude and I have no idea why I'm even driving you to a family function. Why do you have such a problem with other people being happy? Good God," yells Aunt Mitchie. Wow, call her butter cause she's on a roll…

"You know what, Mitchie, it's obvious I am not wanted here, so why don't you drive us to the hospital safely, and I can get out of your hair there in a cab. Then we can go on living our normal lives and pretend this whole thing never even happened. You can go back to being the bitter crazy divorcee and I'll be the A-list musician who doesn't give a shit about you!" says perky little Dana.

Needless to say, we'll be driving in silence to the hospital.

Oh thank god, we're here. I dash out the door about as fast as Dana Dana hails a cab.

"I need to see Caitlyn Black. She's my mother and she's in labor," I tell repeatedly to the receptionist. I'm getting a few stares from the old grandparents in the lobby, seeing as I'm wearing an extremely short and glittered fringed dancing outfit…Yeah…

"Certainly, room 304," the receptionist replies. I pretty much dash down the hallway and burst through the door, assuming the worst.

Whoa. It's pretty zen in here. Am I in the right room?

"Hello darling, sorry we missed the end of your performance, but as you can see it was an emergency," my mom says rather calmly. Maybe it's the Winnie-the-Pooh hospital gown talking…

"Yeah, sure. How's it going?" I ask, but I really mean "Is my baby sister here yet?"

"Mommy's trying this new all-natural Japanese pain therapy thing. I think it's either working or I just lost $5000," my dad says with a chuckle.

"Oh mah jesus. Holy shit, it's happening!" my mom yells out of nowhere with a huge gasp. All good things come to an end, sadly. Doctors run around my mom for like the fifth time. If this keeps up, my baby sister's first sight will be people in mint green scrubs running around….

"Yep, definitely just lost five grand," concludes my dad.

"On the bright side, you're getting a DAUGHTER," I point out to my dad. Obviously, some people don't see the priorities here. Why is no one freaking out!?!? Aren't they the least bit excited to see if Aria will have messy black curls or golden brown ringlets? Shouldn't they be wondering if they left anything dangerous in the new Pottery Barn Kids nursery I decorated? (My dad flipped a few shits when he found out how much the curtains cost) Fine, I'll do the stereotypical pacing the room if no one will.

"Alrightly, Mrs. Black, in about 10 minutes, you should get ready to push!" the overly perky doctor says to my mom.

"Call…me…Caitlyn…" says my mom in between gasps. My dad is rubbing her back, which is almost soaked through with sweat.

"Well, isn't this exciting, hun? In just half an hour, you'll have a new baby sister!" the nurse/midwife says to me. Yup, pretty exciting. While everyone else was off playing My Little Pony with their baby siblings, I was the girl who always wanted someone to play with other than Eve. Now everyone else is gonna be jealous of me, the girl who has the parents who are finally back to normal, the girl with the second place dancing rank, the girl with an amazing best friend who is still friends with her after 10 years, and the girl with the gorgeous new baby sister.

**Sorry it was crappy, but please review? It'll motivate me to give you the last chapter!**


	20. Chapter 20

**HERE IS THE FINAL CHAPTER OF BELL OF ALL BELLES! **

She's beautiful. Breathtaking, even. And most importantly, my baby sister. Aria Erin Black, born March 7th, 2030, 11:41pm. She has gorgeous hazel eyes with eyelashes that are longer than some adults'. She looks angelic, lying in the little white laced bassinette, swaddled in the stereotypical, hospital provided pink blanket.

Now this might seem a little non sequiter, but stick with me. I promise I have a point. There are two kinds of people in the world: the ones destined to DO something, to influence the world, and the ones that live a mediocre if not unfulfilled life. Like, Michael Jackson. His family knew he had it when he was just a kid, and so did he. Now, your average Joe who flips burgers? His existence means nothing to the Earth. You either have it or you don't. And you can definitely tell the second you're born. The point is, my sister has it.

My sister is destined for great things. You can tell by the way her soft chestnutty curls frame her heart shaped face she's going to be a delicate beauty, a head turner. You can tell by the way everyone is attracted to her just by the mere scent of new baby that she's going to be someone. A doer, not an idle bystander.

"She's beautiful, Cait, like a doll" Aunt Mitchie whispers, as if Aria would break if she spoke just a decibel higher.

"I know," my dad says breathlessly. Like I said, she's breathtaking.

"I just can't wait for her and Melody and Harmony to have play dates! They can climb trees and go bird watching!" Uncle Jason exclaims. This comment, naturally, raises a few eyebrows, but of course, we smile and nod because god forbid, we can't shatter the dreams of a 40 year old, immature man!

"And what a gorgeous name, too Caitlyn. It's a noun name that isn't trashy, which are about as rare as polite bellboy these days," says Aunt Mitchie. Ah yes, baby names. My mother is VERY picky about names. First, they have to be actual names or words that are simple. You can't just jumble together as many syllables as you want and call it a name, like Canada, because you end up with names like Shoniqua. Also, names must be spelled the traditional way, like Mary with a Y not I. They also have to have an actual meaning that means something that is relevant to us. Bell and Aria are musical names, you know? Which leads to the final rule. No tacky nouns, like Destiny or Jasmine. They sound like strippers. Every time Uncle Jason calls for Melody and Harmony, my mom dies a little bit inside.

"Bell thought of it, one day in the car," says my mom with a smile. It's obvious she's tired, but she needs to entertain her guests, who are hardly guests.

"What do you think Shane? You've been awfully quiet," says my dad. It's obvious he's pushing for a reason as to why he's been so mellow this last month.

"Just thinking about how much I kind of want one," replies Uncle Shane softly, his gaze held on Aria. Say what?!?! The perennial playboy wants to settle down with a baby?

"What?" Aunt Mitchie gasps and gives him a hard stare. What what?

"What?" my mom almost yells, "I mean what does Mitchie's what mean?"

"It means, I'm ready Mitch. Really," says Uncle Shane genuinely, looking straight at Aunt Mitchie.

"Are you serious, Shane? So help me god, you better not be lying again," she answers with tears pooling in her eyes. Okay hold up, wait a minute. Last time I checked, they hated each other, now they're getting all sappy about babies?

"Okay what is going on you guys?" interrogates my dad, because obviously, this kind of interaction happens once in a blue moon.

"I don't know. That's up to Mitchie," answers Uncle Shane cryptically. Why can't anyone just talk normally anymore!?!?

"What's going on is that Shane has decided he's going to step up and we're going to make our relationship work this time because he has renounced his commitment issues," says Aunt Mitchie, whose gaze is still on Uncle Shane.

"Okay, when did this happen and where was I for this? How long has this been going on?" demands my mom, who has a lot of energy for a woman who just gave birth.

"Oh you know, we've been hanging out for like a month or so…" downplays Aunt Mitchie.

"You guys don't hang out!" I yell.

"I know, and that's the beauty of it," answers Uncle Shane with a wink. So for the past month, when my life was practically falling apart, Uncle Shane and Aunt Mitchie have been sneaking around? This is so trippy. Like no shit.

"Wow, congratulations guys, I guess. And as for that baby, you might wanna get on it," jokes my mom which earns a swat from Aunt Mitchie.

"Hey! I'm not that old!" yells Aunt Mitchie, which makes my mom burst into giggles, which makes Aunt Mitchie giggle. Pretty soon, we're all giggling at well…nothing. And little Aria is sleeping through all of it.

Then a knock on the door breaks the giggly moment. My dad opens it and in steps…Dana Dana? She's still here at this ungodly hour? Probably getting some emergency Botox.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's some guys out here wanting to see Bell Black. They're all official looking," chirps Dana Dana. Oh jesus, I swear I didn't do it, whatever it was.

"Sure, send them in, Dana!" my dad squeals joyously. And soon enough, two men in their 30s wearing dapper suits come in. So I'm not in trouble?

"Sorry for barging in on such a happy occasion, but we feel that what we have to offer Bell might make this occasion happier," the first guy says.

"Okay…" my mom says apprehensively.

"We're talent scouts from Galaxy Agency, which is based in Los Angeles. We were at the dance recital, and all we have to say is WOW," says the second guy. My heart is starting to beat 100 beats per second. Good thing I'm in a hospital, cause I might be going into cardiac arrest. The thought that someone, let alone TWO people, waited in a hospital lobby for 4 hours to see me is kinda insane.

"Go on," urges my dad.

"We have several offers from some of our clients, which we would like to share with you, if we may," says guy number 1, who takes a dramatic pause for emphasis. Jesus, we don't have all day!

"Oh just get on with it. Is my Bell going to be a star?" interjects Aunt Mitchie. Typical Aunt Mitchie move.

"The first offer is from one of our most well known clients. Miss Britney Spears would like you to join her on a European tour next fall. This is a three month, rigorous tour for only the best backup dancers. Of course, you will be compensated with a salary of $200,000," says the second guy, who could really outsell Billy Mays.

"Oh my god!" squeals Aunt Mitchie, at the same time as my parents unison "NO!"

"What?" I yell.

"Absolutely not, think of your education Bell! And I've been to Europe as a teenager. It is scary stuff there!" exclaims my dad.

"Hey there now, we still have another offer. The second is from ABC Studios, who would like to hire you as a professional dancer on their show "Dancing with the Stars", which will be revived next summer," says the talent scout. Dancing with the Stars? What's that? I hear another "Oh my god!" This come, coming from both Aunt Mitchie and…my mom?

"It's only the best reality show they ever had on air!" exclaims my mom. Okay, it's kind of obvious my mom is more excited about her favorite television show being brought back on air than her daughter's prospective career changing offers. Hello? Priorities!

"Yes, well this would be only a summer commitment, with a salary of $150,000" the scout continues.

"Only 150 grand? I remember some of the stuff the pros had to do! It was hard core!" yells Aunt Mitchie, scaring both the scouts and me. The scouts cause they've probably never had an almost 40 year old lady yell at them, and me because I'm wondering what kind of hard core stuff. I mean, I have never seen this show…

"The show is on a tight budget, since production is not sure how well the show will go over with viewers. Tasks would include doing publicity and promotion for ABC, like interviews and photo shoots. Also you would be choreography, teaching, then performing a dance a week along with a celebrity you will be paired with. Also, makeup, hair, and costumes are your choice. It will be a pretty jam packed gig, but the rewards outweigh the work by far. You will be exposed to millions of viewers across America, Ms. Black. You'll become an overnight dancing sensation," says the other scout. Oh my god, this is the real deal. The thing I've been waiting for since I was 6. Someone pinch me.

"And you say this is only a summer thing? And it's based in So Cal?" asks my mom.

"Yes, no commitment after the season is over. Ms. Black can choose to leave the show if she wants if this season doesn't work out," says the scout smiling.

"How can I be sure my little girl isn't paired with some ex-child molester rapper?" my dad asks sternly. Jeez! Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, dad! Although dancing the rumba with a felon would be pretty creepy.

"We only pick the crème de la crème for our celebrities, Mr. Black, so what do you say? We can work out the details later. Would you be interested in either offers, Bell?" asks the scout. I look longingly at my parents, who have their foreheads wrinkled in deep thought. Aunt Mitchie has taken a seat, obviously overwhelmed at all the stuff going on. Uncle Shane and Uncle Jason are outside on the balcony, waving to paparazzi who have camped outside for a picture of Aria.

"Well the Britney tour is obviously a negative, but we're flattered and thankful for the opportunity. As for Dancing with the Stars, that's up to Bell. We're okay with it, but we think Bell needs to get a little bit more familiar with the show. I don't think she realizes how much work goes into something like that," answers my mom. Oh. My. God. I am going to be famous.

"Bell?" nudges my dad.

"Oh my god, YES! YES! To Dancing with the Stars! Thank you SOOO much. I look forward to working with you gentlemen," I practically scream, which earns a stern glance my direction.

"All righty then. We'll be in contact, little lady!" chuckles the talent scout, who leaves. Aunt Mitchie immediately gets up and has a dance party with me, while silently screaming.

I can't believe this is happening to me, really. A few months ago, my life was falling apart and I was hanging on by a thread. Now, my life is idyllic. I have an ethereal baby sister who's life is showing promise already. My parents love us and most importantly, each other. My bitter quarreling Aunt and Uncle have fixed their problems. And best of all? I'm going to be a dancing sensation!

**Thank you to all my readers, the ones that have stuck with me and the ones that maybe haven't! A big shout out to my reviewers, we're at 46 right now. Think we can rack it up to 50? Happy New Decade to all! **

**Stick around for my new story, starting in 2010. Keep this story on alert, and I'll let you all know when my new story is out. It's going to be much more traditional Camp Rock fanfic, one that appeals to a wider demographic. It'll involve both Smitchie and Naitlyn, in a more present time, but of course there's gonna be a xoxoemily spin on it! XOXO**


End file.
